Casus Belli
by MiemsChan
Summary: Cosette isn't the adopted daughter of Jean Valjean, but an orphaned gypsy child he rescues one night. She meets the Les Amis through different encounters. Enjolras manages to enrapture her mind like nobody else, and Enjolras has never been spoken to so crassly by a woman before. Friendship blossoms between the pair, but what does Enjolras do when his heart tells him it wants more?
1. Esmeralda

**Summary: What if Cosette wasn't the adopted daughter of Jean Valjean, but an orphaned Romani child he rescues one winter's night from the clutches of death. She blossoms through womanhood and becomes the mesmerising and enchanting Esmeralda, who's fiery and aloof nature manages to capture the hearts of all the men over Paris. She one day comes upon the Les Amis through a series of interesting events and finds her entangled witha group of rambunctious young men who want to change France for the better, even if it meant risking their lives. She's sure that her heart is her own and her own only,but when a certain sun god steps into the picture how will things change?**

 **AN: Hello! Welcome to my first Les Mis fanfic, I've been writing this for a while and right now I already have 20k words down in Word for it, it's pretty fast-paced because there are some time skips and some relationships may seem rushed, but I do try to put them into perspective a lot of the time so we see character development between the characters. My character was inspired by Esmeralda from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and I was really inspired by her character after rewatching the movie after a very long time since my childhood and I got the idea of what would happen if Esmeralda would be put into the Les Mis universe. Obviously one of Esmeralda's biggest factors in the hunchback of Notre Dame was the fact that she was a Romani woman and a gypsy, therefore making her an outcast, but in this fic her looks are very much the focus on her outcasted self because she looks so different to the people around her, but I still keep a lot of her elements the same such as her personality because that's the main reason I wanted to write this fic. I wanted to see how Enjolras would react when meeting such a kind-hearted yet strong-willed person like Esmeralda. Also I love him and wanted to give him a chance to love. I will be updating this weekly as I have a lot of spare time on my hands and it should be finished around 30k words. As much as I'd want to write a 100k fic I just don't think I have the capability of that without boring my readers.**

 **I do write this fic as one whole document in Word so if some chapters seem to finish on a weird note or scene, please forgive me because I honestly don't want chapters to drag on too long.**

 **One of my dear friends called Pyillami helps me write this, she gives me ideas for different arcs and plots and proofreads it with me, so tysm to her.**

People were staring.

Again.

It wasn't per se a bad thing, no of course not, but it did give her the slight chill now and then. Her Mediterranean facial features and her deeply tanned skin stood out in a crowd of paleness and her deep black wavy curls was very much a contrast to the common bright blondes and chestnut brunettes. However, it was her eyes that seemed to stir the people the most. Her eyes were like a flash of emeralds within a raging stormy sea and once you had caught those eyes within your own it seemed like a spell of a siren had been cast for no one seemed to be able to look away. Wherever she went she seemed to cast a spell on the people that laid their eyes on her, whether it be while she was dancing or just simply walking down the street.

Many always assumed she was foreign, coming up to her in the streets and inquiring where she was from and to which she replied with a playful wink and said Paris. She had always been curious as to where she had gotten her strange looks from, as she knew for sure it wasn't from her father. Ah, her dear Papa. Just thinking of her Papa made her smile, how the kindness in his smile seemed to spread warmth into others. No matter how much wealth her Papa had he stayed humble and caring to others, it was a rare trait nowadays. He had always told her to have courage and to be kind, and that if she kept those traits life would always reward her. Her selfless Papa was her everything, he was all she had for family and she was all he had. Together they had each other. However, no matter how much he smiled, Esmeralda could see the hidden pain behind it. For her father was smart, but he wasn't smart enough to realise Esmeralda knew he was hiding his own scars, scars to his past. Secrets that he never diverged, that he never risked to let loose. It was as if he hid his past like his life was at cost. His eyes held the pains he had seen in his old life, Esmeralda had seen the way his eyes would glaze over as he was caught up in a distant memory multiple times. His life had been long, it was common for many people to have seen different pains and suffering in their life. Esmeralda usually let it slide, she knew her Papa wasn't comfortable talking about his past or about her mother. Where had her mother come from? Why did she look so different? Questions she longed to be answered seemed to remain unanswered, for the sake of her Father.

Her full long lashes battered seductively as the strength of a hot summer's day beat down in a busy street in Paris. In the sweltering heat of the summer, it was much better to wear simpler dresses with less layers, however Esmeralda glanced round herself and noticed how some women still chose to pursue much bulkier, frilly dresses in the heat. It seemed that they lived by the saying 'beauty is pain', or was it? No matter how much her Papa insisted on buying her more fancier and _more expensive_ dresses, she found herself drawn to the much simpler designs that were found in the backs of the shop, away from the store window as if the makers were almost ashamed of their creation. Today she had picked out her own outfit, designed for the exact weather they were having. The loose purple skirt's hem danced around her ankles as she strolled through the busy street with Papa, it was a comfortable skirt – it let her legs breathe. She couldn't imagine how hot it must be for the unfortunate ladies that wore over 10 layers of skirt piled on top of each other.

She sighed at the group of bourgeois girls as they huddled in a circle and shared gossip. On the rare occasions she'd envy them, the way those groups of girls were such a tightly knit group, the way they could easily confide in each other's secrets. She wished for that kind of friendship. Though you shouldn't judge Esmeralda, she was willing to share any type of problem or feeling with her father, although sometimes it was just plain awkward. She was getting to the ripe age of 18 and he an old man, she realized long ago she could no longer confide in him of her secrets like she used to, she was a woman now after all. She couldn't possibly whisper and gossip about boys with her Papa, well not that she was going to anyways if she had friends, she would've at least liked the option to though.

Her white puffy blouse rustled in the light summer breeze that danced its way down the street. Her bare shoulders forming the smallest of Goosebumps against the naked cool air, as her blouse was indeed without shoulders. The blouse _almost_ made her outfit scandalous, heaven forbid a man see her bare shoulders, however it was summer and furthermore the day was almost as hot as heaven's fire. There were workers out on the street without shirts on and housewives lounging on stools outside their shops with their skirts hiked up to their knees as they sat leisurely enjoying warm sun. Esmeralda was very satisfied with her outfit choice today, except for the bodice her father had bought for her. As pretty as the teal and golden striped bodice was, it merely restricted her breathing and painfully pinched at her waist, but since her father had specifically bought it for her she had relented and decided to wear it out today. She could've passed for a gypsy, she mused, but the mere presence of her Papa made people dismiss the thought of it.

Esmeralda was not shy of expressing her delight in dancing, the way her eyes lit up when she heard a nearby musician or a dance band on the side of the street only proved that. She would make a spectacle of herself as she danced in front of the playing musicians without a care in the world. It was like she was born without a single ounce of fear, she wasn't afraid of people staring and looking at her as she normally got stares by merely walking down the bloody street. She danced like a bird, with freedom. Though Papa feigned embarrassment, she knew he always enjoyed watching her dance, the way he'd let a small smile creep onto his face let her know.

Jean Valjean watched his daughter out of the corner of his eye as she casually strolled at his side, deep in her own thoughts. He thought about how truly amazing she was, how her intellect rivalled that of the nearby university's students, how she seemed to excel at anything once she put her mind to it and how she was able to captivate everyone around her within a single heartbeat. She was so amazingly talented, it was starting to grow scary. She was about to turn eighteen, the pinnacle point of womanhood and that meant marriage. Marriage had basically become a taboo word between the pair, both disliked talking about it so they merely didn't. Valjean wasn't prepared to leave the daughter he had raised singlehandedly to a man she and him barely knew for the rest of her life and frankly she believed she was 'too free-spirited' now to become tied down in a marriage. She once had said that "Marriage is merely a cage to keep a bird trapped within it", which was partly true. Though a day would come when Jean would simply be too old to look after her and he couldn't bare to leave her alone I this cruel world if death were to get its dark clutches onto him in the future. He was going to have to bring it up, he thought nervously, but how? He knew how strongly opinionated she was on this matter and he agreed with her. If she wished to have a marriage out of love and love only to be it, even it if meant waiting till her 30s for her to find the right man. However, he was getting old, very old, and however as much as he'd like to keep running from his past he knows sooner or later it will catch up to him, but what he's most afraid of is that it will catch up to his daughter as well. A burst of motion and shouting shook Valjean out of his deep thoughts, up ahead there was a bustling commotion around a stage as two young men stood a top of it. He quickly glanced down at his daughter and was not pleased with the look in her eye:

Curiosity.

Curiosity would kill the cat and Esmeralda along with it.

Before he could say a word to her she was off like lightening. Her long legs carrying her lithe body towards the large crowd that was merely 20 metres away. She was halted when a firm grip on her arm held her still before she could reach the crowd. Esmeralda turned to see her Papa with a stern look in his eye as he glared down at her.

"I thought we had discussed that you would warn me _first_ before running off like that, Esmeralda." He had had this conversation many times with her before, but it never seemed to stick.

"Oh Papa, what's the fun in that?" she asked with a cheeky wink, before promptly walking off again.

Even after she had turned her back towards him she could hear the sigh of surrender Papa let out. She carefully paced along the outside of the crowd, away from the claustrophobic strum of people. Her eyes narrowed in on the gentlemen on the stand, the way they spoke loudly about the liberation of France, for the freedom of the poor. They talked about such controversial and touchy subjects, Esmeralda couldn't help but acknowledge their bravery. She watched their expressions during their speech, how their passion practically radiated off them, but one of them specifically stood out to her. His golden curls reflected the sun's beam off his head to form a golden halo as his fiery eyes watched his audience as they listened on him listing on and on about how a revolution would change their world. He reminded her of Phoebus, the immortal sun god that shone rays of sunlight onto the world. This is what that young man was doing, he was shining hope onto the lost citizens of Paris. By now she had taken a good look at his face: his light golden skin seemed to glisten in the sunlight (god of the sun indeed) and his eyes were a dazzling, piercing blue, almost as if they could look right into your soul, his jawline was strong, and his cheeks defined with the glow of the midday sun. Esmeralda had to admit… he was dashing. However, it wasn't just his looks that had captured her attention, it was the way she spoke to the civilians in front of him, like they were his own family. She saw the fire behind his eyes and the passion burning from the hearth that was his heart. It was intriguing.

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted as a barrelling force came knocking into her left side, leaving her winded and confused. Papa was at her side immediately, helping her regain her footing, but when she looked down to find that the source was in fact a young boy, no older than 9, she waved her Papa off – telling him she was fine. She immediately turned to the young lad that laid with his bottom on the ground as he dusted his hands off from the fall.

"Child are you alright?" she asked concernedly.

She reached down to grab the young boy's hands to haul him to his feet again and to brush off the remaining dust on his clothing. Her eyes caught onto the tricolour rosette that was pinned to the young boy's lapel, it was the same as the ones the gentlemen on the stage wore.

"I'm real' sorry mademoiselle, wasn't lookin' where I was goin'." The young boy said sheepishly.

"It's nothing to worry about," said Esmeralda with a grin.

The boy blushed slightly at her smile, it was adorable.

"Say, I know a way you can make it up to me." She said with a mischievous grin.

"You're not gonna make me do some weird work for you ar' ya?" the young boy said, watching her cautiously.

Esmeralda let out a laugh and replied, "Of course not, I was just going to ask you for your name."

"Oh, well then the name's Gavroche!" Gavroche said with a wide smile.

"Well, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Monsieur Gavroche," she said with a curtsy, "My name is Esmeralda."

For the first time in his life, Gavroche, was curtsied at by a bourgeois mademoiselle. Despite her strange sense of clothing, Gavroche could tell by one look she was wealthy. Although her clothes were simple he could tell the fabric was expensive, and the gold necklace she wore around her neck certainly didn't cost cheap change.

"Here Gavroche," Esmeralda reached into the basket she carried and took out a loaf of bread and offered it to the young boy, "Consider this my compensation to you, for getting in your way."

Gavroche looked up at the fair mademoiselle in amazement and gladly took the loaf of bread from her hands.

"Gavroche!" a voice shouted a couple of metres away.

Gavroche turned hesitantly to the direction Combeferre's voice had come from and just as he expected, he saw the looming figure of Combeferre coming to a stop in front of him.

"Gavroche, what have I told you about running off own your own like that?" Combeferre placed a hand on Gavroche's shoulder, acting as if he'd dash off again.

Valjean could feel a strong relation to the young man's feelings as he listened off on the side-lines.

"Well, I was thinkin' since you lot make me take messages around the whole of bloody Paris, I though' it'd be alright." Gavroche responded slyly back at him.

As Combeferre was about to pinch those chubby cheeks off Gavroche's face, he suddenly noticed the young mademoiselle in front of them, how her beautiful green eyes watched their interaction with interest. Gavroche, taking advantage of Combeferre's slight distraction, slipped quickly from Combeferre's grasp to hide behind Esmeralda cheekily.

"I'm so sorry mademoiselle, for some reason our dear Gavroche is _misbehaving_ today." Combeferre glared down at Gavroche, as the young boy stuck his tongue out as he hid behind the beautiful mademoiselle's skirts.

"Oh, no need to worry, Gavroche's mischief has merely brightened up my boring day so far." She replied with a grin as her delicate hand ruffled Gavroche's long blonde locks.

Combeferre couldn't help but raise his eyebrow at Gavroche at her comment, it seemed the youngest of the Les Amis de l'ABC had more luck with women than the rest of them. The mademoiselle that stood in front of him was definitely a looker, she must've attracted looks wherever she went.

"My apologies, I don't believe I've introduced myself," he said with a kind smile, "My name is Lucien Combeferre, it's a pleasure to meet you Mademoiselle…?"

"Esmeralda." She said with a sloped grin.

The pounding of hooves against the ground startled the both of them out of their introduction, the officers had arrived. Esmeralda glanced back up to the stage to find that it was empty, and the two men that were previously up there were making their way through crowd, passing out flyers as they went. The brunette of the pair had suddenly made his way over to her through the crowd, his voice urging people to meet them again at the same place tomorrow. She noticed his gaze locked onto Combeferre's and he quickly made his way over to the man in front of her.

"My friend, I'm afraid we must move quickly as-"

It was at that moment Marius' gaze suddenly locked onto the young woman that stood in front of him and Combeferre. He was frozen, he couldn't move! It was as if a siren had cast a curse on him. His eyes remained locked on the young mademoiselle as he took her in. Her raven black hair shone under the sun's gaze and her beautiful golden tanned skin made her resemble a Greek goddess, but it was her eyes. The eyes that met his own looked like they held the entirety of the Emerald city in them. It was astonishing. He was broken out of his reverie, however, as an older and more sophisticated gentlemen approached the mademoiselle.

"Esmeralda we must go," whispered the old gentlemen, "I'm afraid it is going to get too dangerous for you here, very quickly."

Marius watched the mademoiselle, named Esmeralda, sigh and regretfully nod her head at the gentlemen's words.

"Just give me a few seconds, Papa." Her voice was like an angel, singing from heaven. "Monsieur's it has been the utmost pleasure of meeting you, I hope to see you again in the near future."

With a quick wink at Gavroche, she was gone.

She had winked at… Gavroche?

Marius had some questions for the young boy later today.

* * *

After Marius and Combeferre had hastily gotten away from the shouting officers they were soon joined by their esteemed leader Enjolras. They strolled happily through the streets, obviously pleased with the way the speech and the rally turned out.

"Say Combeferre, who was that mademoiselle back at the rally?" Marius asked, his eyes glistening to curiosity.

"Which one?" Combeferre heartily joked, he knew exactly which one Marius was talking about.

Enjolras listened in on the two's conversation as he quietly walked next to them. Surely Marius wasn't going to distract himself with a woman, right now? Of all times to do so, with the revolution so close they all could almost grasp it with their fingertips.

"Now don't joke Monsieur, you know very well which one I'm talking about." The mademoiselle's stunning green eyes were still fresh in his memory, like a lush green meadow was encased in those wide eyes.

"Her _name_ is Mademoiselle Esmeralda," relented Combeferre. "I had met her merely minutes before you arrived, dear Gavroche nearly sent her tumbling over."

"She seems very…" Marius trailed off.

"Stunning? Beautiful? Exotic?" Combeferre listed, teasing Marius of his infatuation.

"I was going to say wealthy." Retorted Marius.

"Oh, well that too."

"Did she kick up a fuss about Gavroche?" asked Enjolras, hearing how the youngest member had seemingly crashed into a wealthy bourgeois mademoiselle was slightly unsettling to him. "Ask for compensation? Make him apologise on his knees?"

Combeferre swallowed at the biting remarks Enjolras made about the young mademoiselle.

"Uh, quite the opposite actually." Enjolras raised an eyebrow at this and gave an incredulous look at Combeferre. "The only thing she asked him was if he was alright and the compensation she requested from him was his bloody name! She even gave him a loaf of bread for lunch." Combeferre chortled.

"At least there are still _some_ kind souls left in that class." Said Enjolras bitterly.

"Come on Enjolras, you cannot assume every young mademoiselle you meet is going to be one of those stuck up bourgeois girls."

"If I could help it I wouldn't meet them at all."

Marius and Combeferre laughed incredulously at Enjolras' remark. You could say that Enjolras was the moth and the revolution the flame. It seemed there was only enough room in his heart for dear Patria. His fiery heart was solely devoted to France, it seemed no woman or _man,_ which Grantaire had once joked about which only lead to an empty wine bottle flying in his direction, had a place in his heart. Of course, his comrades were there, but mostly it was for Patria. Every single one of the Les Amis were willing to lay their life down for her, for the revolution.

"So where are you two men off to, now that the rallies for today have finished?"

"I have to stop back at my apartment before class," replied Marius.

"And I must _head_ to class." Said Enjolras.

With that said the three men parted ways, promising to see each other at Café Musain later that night for the meeting of Les Amis de l'ABC. Enjolras loosened the suffocating tie around his neck and unbuttoned his top shirt button as the heat of the sun decidedly to finally set it. He noticed his carrier bag was half open as it flopped against his side as he power walked towards his university, so he hastily tried to buckle it as he walked through the busy square, but suddenly he was thrown off by an impactful force knocking into his side causing himself to tumble onto the ground, his papers and books spread on the cobble floor in front of him. He felt something soft pressing against his body and he hesitantly opened his blue eyes. He was stunned out of his mind to see a pair of luscious green eyes staring back into his. Her eyes were the glimmering colour of emerald, sparkling in the light of the summer's sun like fresh dew on grass. They were both strewn on the floor chest to chest, flushed against each other with the mademoiselle body between his legs, looking into each other's eyes. It was the mademoiselle that seemed to notice their compromising position first as her eyes fluttered and she let out a sound of distraught as she hastily backed away from his legs.

"Oh, mon Dieu! Monsieur are you alright?" The mademoiselle made a grab for his hand as he brushed off the street dirt from his coat and helped him on his feet. "My apologies, I wasn't looking where I was going. It seems I'm knocking everyone over today."

"No apologies needed, mademoiselle, I wasn't looking where I was going as well." Enjolras apologised in a monotone.

The mademoiselle glanced back down at the ground and her eyes widened.

"Oh, monsieur your papers!" She exclaimed as she knelt to the floor and hastily picked up the multiple sheets of paper he had written on the night before for today's class.

"Mademoiselle, you don't have to-" He didn't carry on with his plea as the young mademoiselle was already crouching in front of him, picking up the paper's quickly before the blew off in the summer's breeze.

Enjolras gave a frustrated sigh and knelt down on one knee as he picked up the papers with her, sorting through them and putting them in their correct order, thank god he had numbered them. He suddenly noticed how still the girl next to him sat and quickly glanced over at her. In her hand was the beginning page of tonight's speech that he was going to make at tonight's meeting, he watched her eyes – how they darted across the page as they read the lines he had written at 2am this morning when he had suddenly awoken from a dream, filled with inspiration. He quickly pulled the sheet out of her hands, despite the noise of irritation that came from her mouth. Stuffing all the sheets in his bag, he rose off the ground and took a long look at the mademoiselle on the ground before offering her his hand, which she hesitantly placed her own in his and as she rose off the ground this was when his eyes really took her in. Some of her raven black hair had fallen out the pony tail she tied it in, letting the locks frame her small delicate face. Her skin was deeply tanned and was starkly different against his own and he noticed the way it gave a healthy glow within the sunlight. Her lashes were so full and long they almost touched her cheeks as she looked down at her feet. Enjolras noticed her bare shoulders and quickly glanced away from them, her bold blouse was sure to be the centre of attention as she walked down the street. He made the mistake of diverting his gaze to her lips. Were her lips _that_ rosy naturally?

"Once again, monsieur, I'm so sorry for earlier," her eyes gazed into his own, "It seems I have lost my head today."

"No- uh you're quite alright, mademoiselle, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going as well."

"Um- about that paper I was reading before-"

"Forget about it." Interrupted Enjolras harshly, he didn't need the mademoiselle to tattle on him to her, probably very wealthy and influential, father.

The mademoiselle was stunned for a few seconds but then let out a small giggle, to Enjolras' confusion.

"I was merely going to say that… I thought it was brilliant." She said with a small smile.

Now it was Enjolras' turn to be stunned. Those were the last words he had expected to fall from her mouth.

"Yes, well I saw your earlier rally as well, a few streets down and- well I couldn't help but feel inspired." She said with slightly rosy cheeks. "The pen is mightier than a sword after all."

Enjolras couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from her own eyes that were the glimmering colour of emerald, sparkling in the light of the summer's sun like fresh dew on grass, it was as if he was in a strange trance.

The mademoiselle began hesitantly this time, as if she was afraid at what she was about to say next.

"I noticed… how you mentioned a uh- a meeting in your paper…" surely she wasn't going to say the words he was thinking of next, "I was _wondering_ if I… um would be able to… attend?" she finished finally.

There was a pause, before he replied.

"I'm afraid not, mademoiselle, it is not a place for a lady, like yourself, to attend." He said with a shake of his head. "If we are done here, then I'm afraid I must be off."

Before he could even turn and walk away from her, the young mademoiselle had grabbed one of his arms with both of her hands in a tight, firm grip. Her defiant eyes bore into his own wide ones as she spoke.

"'Not a place for a lady like myself'?" she asked incredulously. "You talk of equality between the rich and poor classes, yet you cannot even apply the same rules between a man and woman?"

"It's different-"

"Different? Pardon me for assuming, monsieur, but I thought your meeting was a gathering of people that shared the same beliefs and opinions with each other." Her brows knitted together as she argued her point to him, "Am I wrong in assuming that?"

"No, you're not mademoiselle, but-" Enjolras tried to argue against her again, but her voice cut through his like a knife, once more.

"Then I don't believe I see the difference you talk about." She finally let go of his arm and folded hers across her chest. "I am a person, a very passionate person, that shares the same beliefs, ideas and opinions as you do, Monsieur. The only difference I see between us, is that _you_ , monsieur, are a man and _I_ am a woman. However, since this meeting a is a gathering of _people_ , I do not see the reason why I am not being granted access."

Enjolras had to hand it to her, the mademoiselle could argue. She was practically captivating while she debated against him, well he says debated, but it was more like he was getting his arse handed to himself. He thought about the consequences of him inviting her to the meeting later tonight, and multiple sprung to mind: he'd get teased and ridiculed for bringing a woman along when normally he was never near women and barely even looked at them, the whole room would be too gobsmacked at the beautiful mademoiselle that they wouldn't be able to focus throughout the whole evening, she'll actually be impactful and make intelligent points. Enjolras thought hard on that last one, would it be so bad to bring her along? She seemed like she could hold her own ground in a room full of outspoken, rambunctious young men. Why not? One part of his mind exclaimed, while another was shaking its head at him furiously; telling him not to do it. For once in his life, Enjolras decided to be impulsive.

"Okay, fine." Enjolras relented, "You can come."

Enjolras watched the happiness reach from her lips to her eyes as she grinned ecstatically at him. He could almost feel the tug of a smile at the corner of his own lips, though he hastily sucked in his cheeks to stop himself.

"Tonight 8 o'clock sharp at Café Musain on the Place Saint-Michel, just tell the woman behind the bar you're there to see me." Enjolras leaned closer to her, not realising how close their faces were as he whispered the details of the meeting.

"And what may your name be Monsieur?" she lifted her chin and tilted her head.

Their noses only a foot apart.

"Enjolras, Alexandre Enjolras." He finally introduced.

"Well, I can firmly say it has been a pleasure talking to you, Monsieur Enjolras." She looked him up and down, which he mimicked at her, causing her to raise one of her dark eyebrows and smirk, "My name is Esmeralda Fauchelevent."

The memory of Combeferre saying "Her name is Mademoiselle Esmeralda" flashed before his eyes and just as he was about to ask her, a loud manly voice shouted from across the square, causing them to both look.

"Esmeralda!" A wealthy looking old man slowly made his way towards them from the opposite end of the square, a large black top hat sitting on his head.

Enjolras looked down back towards Esmeralda as he heard her sigh slightly and looked back up into his eyes.

"I'm afraid I must go; my escort has seemingly found me once again." He watched the smirk slip off her face as she quickly jogged over to the elderly man, meeting him in the middle of the square.

Enjolras watched her go, the way she sashayed her way over to the old gentlemen with a look of disappointment marring his face, as she laughed at the expression and hooked her arm through the other mans. Wait wasn't he supposed to be somewhere? Class! He took out his pocket watch and glanced at the time. Had it been that long already? He was late! Stuffing the pocket watch back in the inside pocket of his coat, he sped out of the square and towards his university. Great, just another reason for his professor to loathe him for.


	2. Cyrene

Enjolras had come out of the lecture feeling extremely annoyed and frustrated, no matter how he tried he couldn't get the thought of mademoiselle Esmeralda out of his head. He had given up half an hour into the lecture and had just sat there in his thoughts, replaying the whole encounter over and over. He had tried analysing her body language, her words and he even tried analysing his own behaviour. To be struck speechless by a _woman,_ him! He was the man that the boys of Les Amis said the only woman in his heart was Patria, a figurative metaphor. The encounter was so strange for him, he had acted like a totally different person. He normally didn't pay attention to any woman's looks when he met them, but how come he could perfectly recall and describe the colour of her fiery eyes or the way her luscious black hair reflected the sun's glow in the midday heat. It was ridiculous! But she was so verbally powerful and outspoken, some traits he was proud to say he found in himself. He knew when to admit a woman was attractive, but he normally stamped it out of his head after about a few minutes, but no mademoiselle has ever made him think so hard like her.

* * *

"-and for the last time Esmeralda, I implore you to-"

"Stay by your side at all times, yes I understand Papa." Esmeralda chuckled slightly.

"If you understood perhaps you would finally listen to me once." Papa said with a frustrated sigh.

"I listen to you plenty of times Papa." She gave the arm she was holding onto a firm squeeze of reassurance, "and 'understanding' does not always mean to be complacent."

Papa huffed in response.

"Who was that young man back at the square?" Papa asked hesitantly, his eyes darting down to look at her, "I do hope you're not wandering up to complete strangers and striking conversations with them."

Esmeralda let out of chortle, "I ran into him and sent the poor man flying, I was merely making my apologies to him."

There was a pause.

"He seems rich though."

"Esmeralda!" Papa gasped, a scandalous looking on his face. "You know we do not judge and discriminate people based on their wealth."

"I'm joking Papa!" a light grin spread across her rosy lips, "Mon Dieu, old age as made you lose your ability to laugh."

Papa glared at her out of the corner of his eye as they passed a group of children begging for money. Papa reached into his pockets and brought out all the spare change and handed some to Esmeralda, telling her to pass it around the few children. This was the Papa she knew. The selfless man that never questioned people when he helped them and provided heaps of care to those in need.

She had decided to keep the meeting a secret from Papa for now, for she could imagine how he'd react to her telling him that she was going to a meeting full of young university students who were planning a full-scale revolution upon the monarchy. Papa barely even let her walk alone in daylight, her attending a meeting at 8pm in the middle of Paris was out of the question. If her Papa thought Paris was dangerous in the day time, then he must've thought Paris was the embodiment of hell at night. She wasn't worried though, she had a plan to make sure she would be able to attend that meeting, even if it meant slightly risking her life.

Esmeralda had a gut feeling someone was staring at the back of her head, so she turned and glanced around her, searching for a pair of eyes that were trained on her. There, across the street from her was a young man staring at her with his mouth slightly open. His brown hair stuck up in odd places, as if he had run his hand through it multiple times throughout the day and though his clothes were slightly ruffled in some places, they were still well made. His tall body seemed to freeze as they locked eyes with each other. Oh? Esmeralda recognized him as the man that had given the speech at the rally along with Monsieur Enjolras. She smiled at him courteously and nodded her head in greeting, after all she was going to be seeing him later tonight, she assumed, at the meeting. Esmeralda turned back to her Papa, who was tugging her along the street as he greeted people and handed out spare change to the beggars along it. Curiously, she glanced back to the spot where the young man was and surprisingly he was still there, standing in a stupor; still looking at her. How odd, she thought.

* * *

Evening soon arrived at the citizens of Paris as the sun painted colours across the sky like it was a palette, as it finally bid the city farewell behind the horizon. The last of the sun's golden rays shone into Esmeralda's room through her open window as she bathed within the windowsill, soaking up the sun's last moments. She had found out earlier, while her Papa was momentarily distracted, the exact location of Café Musain by asking some people in the area. The summer days were long and the nights painfully short, it was already a 7 in the evening. As much as she loved summer, she couldn't stand the short nights, why you ask? Because Esmeralda always found a fascination in star-gazing, a strange habit for an estranged young woman. Ever since she was young, she had loved watching the twinkling of the stars and pointing at different constellations in the night sky and since in the summer the nights were shorter, it meant less time for star gazing. Hearing the small chime of the clock outside her room, signalling it was a quarter past 7, she finally put her plan into action. Luckily for her, her room was on the ground floor of their small cottage house, which meant it was easy for her sneak out of her window without having to make a makeshift rope out of sheets.

She quietly tiptoed upstairs to her Papa's study, where he was working diligently away at his desk. She silently leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching her father work. She admired the amount of effort and hard-work he put into everything, it was a trait she wishes she would be able to attain one day. Her Papa had a habit of checking up on her about 15 minutes after she had declared she was going to bed, you see. So first, she would have to make sure her Papa wouldn't pay her an unwanted visit later.

"Papa." She called softly.

His head turned, finally noticing her presence and shifted the direction of his body towards her.

"Oh, Esmeralda. Is there something you need?" he adjusted his glasses against the bridge of his nose as he asked.

"Today has been quite exhausting, so I'm deciding to retire early." Esmeralda stated quietly.

He gave a chortle and turned back to his work, "I can imagine, with you running off all the time today."

"Yes, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't check on me, Papa." She added on for good measure, "You know how the sun makes me a light sleeper."

Esmeralda watched her Papa bob his head up and down before she quickly left the study room and hurried downstairs, into her bedroom. She hopped into bed and waited patiently for 15 minutes, making sure her father was definitely not going to check up on her. She heard the creaking of the old floorboards above her room as her father wandered into his own room. It seemed that chasing her around all day had worn him all out as well. She waited a few more minutes, till the creaking had ceased and she was sure he had gone to bed, for her to hop out of her own. She grabbed her favourite cloak from her closet and quickly draped the dark turquoise fabric around her shoulders before opening her bedroom window and carefully hopping out onto the soft grass. Pulling her hood up around her head, she shut her window with a soft click, she didn't need her neighbours to tattle on her to her Papa.

She quickly tip-toed towards the black metal gates that barred her garden from the street. Esmeralda felt herself cringe as the gate squeaked ever so slightly as she slowly opened and closed it behind her. Finally making it onto the street, she let out a breath she didn't even realise she was holding. After taking one last look back at her house, she hurried down the street with her heart thundering in her chest, whether it was from the excitement or from all the running, she had no idea. Only time would tell she guessed.

* * *

When Esmeralda finally arrived at Café Musain, she couldn't help but feel intimidated by the tall building. The sun had finally set, and the sky was erasing the last of the red streaks of paint with a dark midnight blue. She paused, what if they wouldn't let her in, even after she had come all the way here? So many anxious thoughts plagued and clouded her mind she hadn't realized the new presence of a person standing next to her.

"Mademoiselle Esmeralda?"

Her heart leaped into her throat as a strangled yelp left her lips as she turned to face the owner of the voice.

"Monsieur Combeferre?" Esmeralda lowered the hood of her cloak to face the familiar man she had met earlier today. "Are you here for the meeting as well?"

"Mademoiselle, I must say this was the _last_ place I expected to run into you again." Said Combeferre with a smile, he lowered his voice to a whisper before carrying on, "How on earth have you heard about the meeting?"

"I ran into Monsieur Enjolras after shortly departing from you," she hurriedly explained, "I recognized him from the rally and might've… _persuaded_ him to invite me along."

" _Persuade_ Enjolras?" Combeferre guffawed. "Now that mademoiselle I find _very_ hard to accept, Enjolras is as stubborn as a mule, but don't tell him I said that will you."

Esmeralda grinned at Combeferre's words.

"Me and Enjolras weren't looking where we were going and knocked into each other, I sent his papers flying." Muttered Esmeralda. "I happened to come upon one of the speeches he wrote for these very meetings and that's how I discovered them. I managed to bugger him enough to allow me to attend one, you see."

Combeferre was speechless. The young mademoiselle had managed to convince _Enjolras,_ the man that would rather be in the company of several police officers than a woman, to let her come along to these very _exclusive_ meetings. It was a difficult feat indeed and Combeferre had to hand it to her for managing it. Realising they were still standing on the steps of the café, Combeferre offered his elbow to Esmeralda.

"The meeting's going to start in about 15 minutes, might as well get you introduced nice and early, shall we?"

Esmeralda nodded eagerly at Combeferre's words and quickly took his elbow and placed her hand in the crook of it as she let him lead her inside. She noticed the small nod he sent to the middle-aged woman behind the bar as a greeting and continued to lead Esmeralda further into the café. They finally got to a small door, that looked like Combeferre had to duck to get through, that opened to reveal a set of stairs in front of them. Pulling up her thin skirt as she trotted up the stairs to the landing that thankfully had a higher ceiling for Combeferre's sake. The sudden grow in noise become evident to her every step she took towards the last door on the landing and by the time she arrived at the door she could hear the definite sounds of muffled young male voices shouting and laughing through the wooden door.

A rush of adrenaline surged through her veins as she stopped outside the wooden door. Her heart thrummed in her chest like a hummingbird's wings beating in flight as she felt the adrenaline course through her veins, she wasn't normally this nervous about meeting people. Combeferre seemed to detect her hesitance to open the door and smiled kindly to her.

"I know it can be pretty daunting at first, but I assure you they're all good men in there." He said encouragingly.

It wasn't the men she was worried about! She feared how they would perceive her, maybe she was so nervous about this because she cared about it. She cared about how they'd react to her and if they were willing to accept her into their ranks. She so wanted to be a part of this group of ragtag young revolutionists as one of their own. She thought back to how she once envied the other bourgeois girls and their close group of friends, she'd take these group of boys any day over those girls. Here she was thinking these thoughts when she hadn't even met them properly yet! What if they hated her? Despised her because she was a woman?

Oh, how silly she felt she was being! Esmeralda knew anxiety wasn't becoming of her and she didn't suit it. She had always perceived herself as a young confident woman that didn't give a thought on what other people thought of her, but here she was too nervous to nervous to open a day with her own hand because she was too scared on what a group of young men thought of her.

"I'll be with you every step of the way, Mademoiselle." Combeferre placed his free hand over Esmeralda's hand that was gripping the crook of his elbow like she was holding on for dear life. "And if any of the boy's step out of line at any time, I'll be sure to set them straight."

Esmeralda giggled at Combeferre's sweet words.

"Monsieur, I think it's high time I let you call me by my first name, don't you?" she gave him a lazy, sloped smile. "Formalities make the mood stifling, in my opinion."

"Only if you call me by Lucien or Ferre, Esmeralda." His eyes widened slightly as he quickly added on, "That is- only if you're comfortable with that, I mean."

Esmeralda chuckled heartily at Combeferre, with her eyes glinting with mischief in those stormy green pools.

They both broke out of the reverie as the door in front of them suddenly swung open to reveal yet another handsome young man. Esmeralda noticed his dishevelled clothes and the bottle of wine he clutched in one of his hands. His mop of curly dark brown hair seemed to bounce as the man finally turned to them.

"Ah! I thought I 'eard your voice Ferre-" The young man's eyes suddenly shifted from Combeferre to her. "And I see you brought a lady friend, Enjolras is goin' to have a fit."

"Ah, yes but Grantaire-"

"And what may I call you mademoiselle? I'm not fond of formalities you see." Grantaire reached for the hand that wasn't clutching onto Combeferre and brought it to his lips.

"Well, you're in luck Monsieur, for I share the same sentiments." Esmeralda smiled at him flirtingly. "My name is Esmeralda."

"What a fitting name." chuckled Grantaire. "My name is Damien Grantaire."

He stared intensely into Esmeralda's green orbs as he said this, seemingly taken with the colour of her eyes.

"Well why don't we head in? Instead of loiter around the doorway." Combeferre cut in, staring accusingly at Grantaire.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow at him, but soon turned and walked down the tiny hallway entry to the large room.

"What was it you were saying before Ferre?" asked Grantaire turning back to Combeferre.

"Yes, before you very _rudely_ interrupted I was about to say that I wasn't actually the one to invite her along."

They finally arrived at the large bustling room, where every single member of the meeting seemed to be a dashing young man. Esmeralda glanced around the room, taking in every single member. The atmosphere was warm and friendly, and the room bustled with talk and laughter, but it grew deafeningly quiet at the trio's arrival. Esmeralda felt the eyes of practically every single member on her. Not knowing where to look, she just trained her eyes on the floor, afraid she'd make eye contact with one of them.

"Well, if you didn't, then who would have?"

"I did."

The whole of the room's occupants shifted their attention to the back of the room where the voice had resonated from. In the back of the room Esmeralda's eyes found Enjolras, who was surrounded by papers he had spread across the table in front of him, bathing under the moonlit sky from the window. A murmur broke out in the middle of the silence: "Enjolras invited a woman?", "How out of character." Esmeralda twiddled her fingers and finally spoke up.

"It's wonderful seeing you again, Monsieur Enjolras." Esmeralda spoke brightly, a smile illuminating her face as she stepped further into the room.

"I must be honest, I thought you weren't going to show." Replied Enjolras, rising from his chair and slowly making his way over to her.

"Well, I wouldn't have missed it for the world." Esmeralda felt a sense of mischief creep up her spine as she said her next words, "Not after all the _persuading_ I had to do."

In the corner of the room, Grantaire choked on his wine and let out a barking laugh. Combeferre stared down at Esmeralda with wide eyes, wondering if she knew what she had implied and by the poorly supressed smile on her face, she did. Esmeralda swear she could hear multiple men sputter at her words, but her eyes were trained the rising blush that appeared on Enjolras' cheeks. A loud hoot was heard from one corner of the room followed up a chorus of "I didn't know you had it in ya Enjolras!" and multiple wolf-whistles. Esmeralda stared at Enjolras innocently as he refuted the responses and shouted they simply had an argument which she had obviously won. A hand tapped on her shoulder lightly and turned to see a rather fresh-faced young man with his arm thrown round Combeferre's shoulders.

"Esmeralda let me introduce you to a close comrade of mine," Combeferre patted the other man heartily on his back, "This charming fellow is Adrien Courfeyrac, don't fall for his sweet talk though. He's probably already wooed half the women in Paris."

"It's a pleasure finally make your acquaintance mademoiselle." For the umpteenth time that night, Esmeralda found her hand being picked up and kissed again by another fine young gentlemen.

So, this young man is a notorious flirt? She pondered. Her eyes evaluated him and analysed every piece of body language he put forward to her. He was obviously enjoying himself as he asked in Enjolras' embarrassment in front of the others, and she assumed that Courfeyrac had been whispered a few details about herself before making himself known to her, all in all he seemed like an alright man.

Esmeralda did not want this meeting to turn into a husband hunting party, that was the least of the things that were on her mind but somehow, she couldn't help it. She was surrounded by a large group of intelligent forward-thinking young men, and it didn't hurt that most of them were rather good looking. She was introduced to the prominent members of the group, that were some of Combeferre and Enjolras' closest confidants, one of which was Nicolas Joly – a cheerful young man who was one of Combeferre's classmates who studied medicine along with him, yet at the same time suffered from hypochondriasis. Another was Jerôme Feuilly- the only non-student member among them and made beautiful hand-made fans for a living. She was then introduced to Jean Prouvaire, who insisted she called him Jehan. He was slightly shyer and more innocent compared to his rambunctious friends and at the same time he struck her as a man who wouldn't hesitate to step up to a challenge. Then it was finally Marius Pontmercy, the young brunette who had stood alongside Enjolras during today's earlier rally and the one who she had spotted across the street from her. Marius seemed to have a loss of words for her as he couldn't seem to even form a proper sentence to introduce himself to her, which she chuckled light-heartedly.

After about what seemed like an eternity of greetings and introductions, the loud thumping of a glass bottle against a hard-wooden table tore everyone's attention from the lovely Esmeralda. The meeting was finally about to start. Everybody settled into their respective spaces and turned their attention to Enjolras, who was currently standing atop of a table. Esmeralda found herself sharing a comfy booth with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, both sitting on either side of her while Grantaire lounged lazily on a wooden chair across the table from her.

The orange glow from the candlelight dimly illuminated everybody's faces as they intently listened to the powerful words Enjolras spoke to them. The warm light from the candles almost created a romantic atmosphere within the room, if it weren't for all the talk of a revolution that is. Esmeralda had been immensely amused when she had found out from Grantaire that Enjolras' nickname among their group was Apollo, the infamous Greek god of the sun, but in all honestly Esmeralda had to intensely agree upon how fitting the nickname was. He was their sunlight within the true horrid dark of their frightening world. Enjolras provided sanctuary, hope and freedom for souls who found themselves outcasted for their beliefs. He burned so bright, so passionately for them that he basically became a beacon of hope for the rest of the Les Amis. He talked about how they'd liberate France from the clutches of poverty and exclaimed how they'd be the first to be prepared for the new world they would bring for the lower classes. Esmeralda hung on every single word he spoke, her eyes never deviating from Enjolras' face. It seemed like she was the one under the spell now.

The speech finishes with loud deafening cries of "Vive la France!" and the members of the Les Amis are left to socialise freely for the rest of the night. Drinks are generously passed round, mush to Grantaire's content. Esmeralda noted how she couldn't recall a moment from tonight, so far, where there _wasn't_ a drink in Grantaire's hand.

"Esmeralda! Would you like a glass of the finest wine in Paris?" Grantaire held up a large full wine bottle, freshly opened.

Esmeralda raised a dark eyebrow at him.

"Surely you jest, Grantaire." She said with a chuff.

"I certainly am, my dear." He poured a rather generous amount of wine into her glass. "We only bring that bottle out for extremely _special_ occasions."

Esmeralda inhaled the rich scent of the wine before gulping down the whole of the classes contents as her fellow table mates looked on in amusement and shock. Her glass green eyes glimmered in the flickering candlelight as she stared down Grantaire.

"What?" She asked innocently. "You're not the only one who can drink, Grantaire."

Grantaire merely smirked and winked in response, which she chuckled to merrily. A dash of gold caught her eye as she turned back to the table Enjolras occupied, alone. His head was down, eyes focused on the piece of paper as he wrote quickly and diligently. Deciding that the poor man could use a break, she excused herself from her table and quietly made her way over to Enjolras, swirling the contents of her drink in hand. She silently sat down in the seat across him, watching him write, he hadn't even looked up since she was there.

* * *

A few tables away, Grantaire, Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Marius curiously watched the couple.

"Isn't she beautiful?" commented Marius with a lovestruck look in his eyes.

Grantaire huffed into his drink, of course the gomer bourgeois boy had already fallen hopelessly in love with dear Esme.

"Cer'ainly a looker." Grantaire agreed. "But she's definitely not all looks and perfume, like the rest of those girls."

"Agreed." Replied Courfeyrac.

"Maybe she's the one." Interjected Combeferre, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "The Cyrene to our Apollo."

"Who?"

" _Cyrene_ ," stressed Combeferre, "The mortal huntress that Apollo fell hopelessly in love with while she fought off a Lion."

Grantaire harrumphed and Marius' face fell in dejection.

"Doubt it," quipped Grantaire.


	3. Church Bells and Doves

Esmeralda watched Enjolras curiously as he wrote. The way he seemed to purse his lips in concentration was endearing and amusing to her all at the same time. Having enough of watching the young revolutionist in silence, she finally spoke up.

"You know, normally when a person sits down at your table it's common curtesy to at _least_ acknowledge them, Monsieur." She smirked evilly at the jolt that seemed to course through Enjolras' body at her sudden interruption to his thoughts.

Enjolras exhaled heavily and he took a long look at the cheeky woman sat in front of him. His eyes were immediately drawn to the rosy lips that were upturned in a poorly suppressed smile. He shook his head slightly, before adjusting his position to fully face her.

"My apologies, Mademoiselle Fauchelevent, how has your evening here been so far?" He asked politely.

Esmeralda scoffed at her full title, it felt so stiff.

"I implore you to call me Esmeralda, Monsieur." She insisted, batting her dark lashes at him. "And as much as I admire a hard-working man, everybody deserves their breaks."

She stared pointily at the metal pen he still held in his hand.

As much as she admired a _what_? Was she-? No, she couldn't be. She wasn't… _flirting_ with him, was she? Here of all places! Such bold actions from a young mademoiselle indeed!

His thoughts caused him to swallow nervously as he placed his pen gently down onto the table, forgetting the paper for the moment. The bob of Enjolras' Adam's apple didn't go unnoticed by Esmeralda, only causing her to grin more.

"Esmeralda, then." He tested out her name on his tongue, how it flowed easily through his lips without struggle.

"Does this mean I get to call you Alexandre, then?"

He swallowed his wine harshly causing him to cough violently into his hand, he was obviously taken aback by her brazen question.

"I mean- well-" Enjolras stuttered.

He had _stuttered!_ What was wrong with him today?!

"I mean, isn't it only fair? Since I'm giving you permission to call me by my first name." She was _enjoying_ herself by watching him fluster! What a menacing woman indeed.

When Enjolras was about to refute her and tell her how since she had been the one to ask him to call her by her first name, he should've been the one with the choice to offer her the use of _his_ first name, not the other way around, but for some reason he knew there was no point in arguing about it. He sighed in defeat, yet another lost battle, but he didn't give up hope yet as he was reminded of the saying "lose the battle but win the war".

"Feel free to call me whatever you wish, mademoiselle." Esmeralda frowned at this, hearing him call her by mademoiselle had obviously displeased her.

"Enjolras, is what everybody seems to call you." She nodded to the cheerful members that were spread across of the room in front of them. "But I'd rather not be part of the 'everybody', I like to stand out you see." She took a long sip from her wine glass and stared off into the centre of the room. "Alexandre is far too long and proper… Alex is a name I frankly dislike, for some odd strange reason, so that leaves us with Andre."

Enjolras watched Esmeralda finally turn her head to face him, locking eyes immediately.

"Is that alright with you?" she tilted her head at him, waiting for his response.

"I repeat my previous statement." He muttered in reply.

The silence grew between the pair and feeling the sudden urge to change the topic of conversation, she did just that.

"So, what's your future plan, Andre?" She swirled the contents of her glass playfully as she awaited his answer. "If we do win this revolution."

"Future plans?" he asked, confused.

" _Yes_ , like marriage or a job and whether you're going to move to the countryside or stay in Paris." She explained, her hands gesturing all over the place.

Enjolras looked at Esmeralda sceptically, why was she so curious about him?

"If I manage to finally pass my bar exam then I'll become a lawyer, hopefully." He added. "As for marriage, I have no desire for it."

Esmeralda raised her eyebrows at his proclamation, it was expected and unexpected at the same time.

"At all?" She uttered incredulously. "You're a rather good catch for all those other bourgeois girls."

"A good catch." He mimicked irritably.

"Of course! You're handsome, intelligent and wealthy." She listed the 3 things off on her fingers before looking up at him with hooded eyes. "A woman would have to be blind and deaf to _not_ find you attractive. Have you not ever had a beau?"

The only answer Esmeralda received was the hell-freezing glare Enjolras gave her, which she interpreted as a very simple no. She stared at him for a second, admiring the way his hair fell slightly into his eyes as he scribbled onto his paper.

"Have you ever heard of the British poet Tennyson?" Her question caused him to raise his head, she didn't wait for his answer to carry on, "There's a line in one of his poems that goes:

 _'Tis better to have loved and lost  
Than never to have loved at all._

It's a meditation on the dissolution of a relationship, the meaning's quite self-explanatory. It's just something to think about, I guess."

Enjolras raised his eyebrow at her, her sudden mention of the poem had caught him off guard. Was it because of their earlier conversation? When he said he was never going to take a wife?

"I didn't take you as a person to recite poetry," he commented, his pen paused in it's never-ending dance across the lines of the paper.

"Yes well, many people don't really," she sighed.

Enjolras could barely let the weight of her words sink in before a loud shout and a clatter of chairs nearby disturbed his thoughts. Courfeyrac and Combeferre had both sauntered over to their table and had pulled up two chairs to sit along side them joining in on their conversation. Grantaire had long passed out on the table across the room and Marius had decided to call in an early night.

"What are you two loners talking about all on your own?" joked Courfeyrac.

"We're hardly _loners_ if we have each other's company, Courfeyrac." Esmeralda shot back at him.

"Touché, mademoiselle." He grinned and continued to sip from his bottle.

"But for your information, we were discussing marriage."

"Marriage?!"

Courfeyrac sputtered the contents of his drink and coughed violently. Enjolras' eyes nervously glanced across the room, it seemed no one else had heard the ear-piercing exclamation from Courfeyrac. Yet another misunderstanding he had to clear up.

"And poetry," Esmeralda added with a grin.

"We were discussing marriage in general, Courfeyrac." Sighed Enjolras, "Don't try to think too much, you'll only hurt yourself."

Courfeyrac sent a withering glare to Enjolras, which he merely rolled his eyes at, as Combeferre picked up the conversation again.

"Marriage, eh? Looking for the perfect suiter are we, Esmeralda?"

"They're the ones that find _me_ , unfortunately," replied Esmeralda bitterly.

"Don't tell me you're as opposed to marriage as much as our dear Apollo here." Courfeyrac clapped a hand on Enjolras' shoulder, much to his displeasure.

Esmeralda chuckled heartily before replying, "No, certainly not as much as Andre here, but I do have a certain disdain from it."

The 3 men fell deathly silent and Esmeralda looked confusedly between them. She glanced over to Enjolras, who eyes were trained to the table, and then to Courfeyrac who was barking with laughter and then to Combeferre, who's lips were parted in shock.

"A-Andre?!" Courfeyrac gasped between his throws of laughter.

The look on Enjolras' face was so cold it could've made hell freeze over.

"I-I didn't realize, the pair of you were on 'nickname' terms." Confessed Combeferre, glancing between the couple.

"Oh, he isn't." clarified Esmeralda, a small smirk creeped in the corner of her mouth. "But, I am."

That damn smirk was going to be the end of Enjolras.

"Y-you… said you had… a disdain from marriage, why?" Courfeyrac wheezed out his question before beating his chest into recovering from his, rather, exhausting laugh.

Esmeralda gave a heaving sigh, recalling all the memories of her governess teaching her how to act like the perfect wife and remembering all the potential suiters that had randomly showed up at her front door asking for her hand in marriage before she even knew their name.

"It's imprisonment." Esmeralda had a far off look in her eyes, like she was trapped in her own world. "Well, right now it is anyways. All I want to do right now is enjoy my youth while it lasts, you see. For example, I want to go on midnight escapees, cause a scandal or two and perhaps along the way I meet a man that doesn't make me feel like I'm constantly tied to the ground. It's like marriage is a cage and I'm the silly bird that got coerced with the prospect of safety and comfort to get in it. It doesn't matter how large or how spacious the cage is, the cage is still a cage. I'm not really free. Unfortunately, unlike you boys, I don't get a choice. I'm a woman, it's my 'duty' to marry a well-off man with good prospects and bear his children, but while my husband is enjoying his young adult life, what am I doing? Where am I in this picture? I'll tell you where, I'm at home nursing the children. Why should I be the one to give up youth for something I don't even want?"

Esmeralda grumbled incoherent words to herself, but one would assume they weren't as intelligent as the one she used in her little speech just then. The three men around her let the heavy weight of her outburst settle into their minds as they interpreted her words.

Enjolras was enlightened by her words, the only type of women he had ever encountered up until Esmeralda were the very vapid, boring bourgeois mademoiselles that wore too much perfume and had very little common sense. Esmeralda's view on marriage seemed to open a door in his mind, letting out all this mess of ideas and opinions he had to sort. She was the exact opposite of those girls. When all _they_ had wanted was to find a good husband from him, Esmeralda had wanted to find out about the lunatic beliefs and ideas he had. She was openminded to different beliefs and welcomed change for the better. She wasn't one of the chess pieces being played but in fact _the_ player, who had the control of the game.

* * *

"So, when's the wedding?"

The hands on the old grandfather clock ticked away as it neared 12am in the morning, most of the Les Amis members had already left the café and gone to their respective homes for the night to sleep away the alcohol. About half an hour ago, Esmeralda had declared that she had to be heading home as well and Combeferre had politely offered to walk her home, which she had kindly accepted.

Lucky bastard.

Only Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Enjolras were left to grumble in their own seclusive thoughts and Grantaire, who had previously awakened from his drunken stupor, although still very tipsy, was the one to receive Enjolras' freezing gaze.

" _What_ wedding." He enunciated each word precisely, making sure Grantaire could feel the scathing heat from every word he spoke.

Grantaire barely even flinched.

"Why, the wedding between you and Esmeralda, of course!"

Courfeyrac glanced between the two men nervously, feeling the tension growing heavily within the air, but it seemed Grantaire failed to notice it.

"O' c'mon! She's a righ' spitfire, int' she?" The words came tumbling out of Grantaire's mouth before Courfeyrac could stop him and he felt the fear rumble in his stomach.

"Ya' chant of a revolution, yet 'ere you are! Probably more lovesick than Marius!" Trust Grantaire to spill his mouth to possibly the worst person for this situation in the entirety of France.

Courfeyrac felt cold sweat start to bead along his brow as his gut twisted in anxiety as he watched Enjolras' grip on his pen whiten.

" _I_ am not the one that's _lovesick_." Enjolras spat the word out like it had left a foul taste in his mouth.

Grantaire released a bark of laughter as he staggered to his feet, rising off his chair with less balance than a new born foal.

"'Course you are! Yar' bloody speechless when she's around and you _blushed_."

Grantaire's grin spread as Enjolras' eyes widened as he, as well, raised out of his chair to face the stumbling drunkard. Courfeyrac could merely watch on in muted horror, too afraid to set up Enjolras' temper.

"Don't bother tryin' to deny it, Apollo." Grantaire jabbed the point of the bottle towards Enjolras' chest. "An' you shouldn't be ashamed of it, I mean, you only have to take a bloody glance at the woman to-"

Before Courfeyrac could shout in horror, Enjolras' fist flew towards Grantaire's head and punched him cleanly in the jaw. Grantaire fell to the ground in a heap, knocked out by the blow with the help of the enormous amount of alcohol in his system. Enjolras breathed heavily as he recollected himself and straightened his waistcoat.

"Sorry… I needed for him to shut up for just one damn second."


	4. Virtues and Vices

Two weeks passed since that initial meeting and the days that passed with it were filled with promising ideas, new friendships and more meetings. Those fourteen days could've easily been the best of Esmeralda's young life. She finally felt like she belonged somewhere in this group of overly enthusiastic group of young men. Esmeralda found herself in her own company most of her lunchtimes more often than normal for some strange reason, as her father had given the excuse he had to run some personal errands and had given her permission to visit her "friends" as he put it. It wasn't until she finally arrived at the university that she realized she had no idea where any of the boys were, or which buildings they had their classes in.

Walking into the university's library, she was amazed at the masses of books that surrounded her on shelves that reached all the way up to the high ceiling. She shuffled through the aisles of book shelves awkwardly, feeling extremely out of place. To her immense luck her eyes spotted a hardworking Combeferre, sitting on the table in the furthest corner of the room, chatting amiably with some classmates. Esmeralda refrained from calling out his name in excitement, realising she was in a library, and quickly trotted over to him.

"Ferre," she whispered.

He turned, the look of shock on his face quickly turned into a warm smile as he greeted her.

"Esmeralda! What are you doing _here_?" He rose from his chair to greet her, ignoring the open-mouthed expressions of his classmates.

"My father has some connections." She winked. "I was wondering if you would kindly join me for lunch, along with the other boys – if I find them, that is."

"I think me and Enjolras are the only ones here at school, right now," replied Combeferre, scratching his head, "But if you would have me, I'd be very honoured to join you for lunch."

"Brilliant," Said Esmeralda with a dazzling smile. "I'll wait for you outside, shall I?"

With that, Esmeralda quickly spun on her heal and hastened her pace out of the library.

Combeferre turned about to the gobsmacked faces of his fellow medical peers.

"I know." He said with an arrogant grin, before hurrying off to Esmerelda's side.

They wandered over to the Justice and Law building, where Enjolras was currently sitting in a lecture. They chatted together amiably, attracting the attentions of a few students as they passed by them. Combeferre was less than proud to say he felt slightly happy to be the centre of envy of the other men as he walked next to Esmerelda. He pointed out different buildings to her and showed her around the beautiful campus that they spent practically half their life in. When they finally arrived at the large oak double doors that lead to the large lecture room they stood awkwardly in front of it, getting the odd look from a random passer-by. Feeling the need to fill the silence while they waited for the lecture to finish, Combeferre decided to have some fun of his own.

"So… what do you think of our Enjolras, Esmeralda?"

"Enjolras?" Esmeralda was slightly taken aback by Combeferre's sudden question but went with it anyways. "I think he's a spectacular man."

"Do you think of him as a man though?" He swivelled on his heal to face her. "Like as a _man_."

Esmerelda let out a chuckle and turned to Combeferre confusedly.

"If he isn't a man, then is he a woman?"

"No, come on now, you know what I mean." Replied Combeferre, getting serious, "Would you see him as a potential… 'marriageable' man?"

"Combeferre, you _know_ how Enjolras and I feel about marriage."

"Yes, but think about it hypothetically!" implored Combeferre, "Say you had to marry someone within the next 24 hours and you had the choice of the Les Amis members, excluding me. Who would you choose?"

Esmeralda shook her head at the grinning Combeferre, but decided to amuse him for once.

"Grantaire drinks _far_ too much for my liking, I'm surprised his liver hasn't _drowned_ yet. Courfeyrac is far too much of a Casanova, I don't want to be horrid, but I'd feel like he wouldn't remain faithful for more than a few years. Marius is… Marius, and I feel like I'd get bored after a year or two of marriage life with him. Now, don't get me wrong here, he's a wonderful man, but… I just need something more." Combeferre nodded his head in understanding. "I need someone who will keep me on my toes, stimulate my mind! I need someone like…"

"Like…?" urged on Combeferre.

But before the Esmeralda could answer him, one of the large wooden doors in front of them burst open to a sea of students flowing out of it. They were soon greeted by a very exhausted looking Enjolras, who seemed like he had gotten less than 3 hours of sleep the night before. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the pair in front of him, as his classmates curiously gazed at Esmeralda as they left the lecture hall.

"Andre, me and Ferre were just about to get some lunch, would you join us?" Esmeralda asked him, her gaze locked onto his as she smiled cheerfully. "You look like you could use some good food."

"Knowing you, you probably didn't have breakfast this morning, did you?" Ah, Combeferre, always the caring mother of the group.

"Come on now, we're taking you to lunch, whether you like it or not, Monsieur Apollo." She crassly looped her arm through his and lead him through the corridors and out of the university.

Normally Enjolras was very uncomfortable with any type of human contact, which he was still was no doubt, but it was something about Esmeralda's warm, soothing touch that reassured him the woman on his arm wanted nothing more than his companionship. Normally the women that tried to forcefully feel him up were the slightly mysterious and scary women of the night or the women his "peers" introduced him to, which he had never asked them to in the first place. He didn't hold her hand, no, but he didn't shrug out of it either.

Combeferre trailed a few steps, admiring the couple as they chatted back and forth between each other as they walked through the streets to a nearby café. It was an incredible feat, what Esmeralda had managed to do in such a short amount of time; she had managed to capture the hearts of practically everyone in Les Amis d'ABC and had gotten to a certain point of friendship with their esteemed leader, Enjolras. Combeferre still couldn't believe the sight before him – Enjolras with a woman on his arm. As much as he tried to believe Enjolras in the beginning, how he always spoke about how women and emotions of amour were simply distractions to their great plan, Combeferre knew there would come a day where Enjolras would meet a woman so unforgettable that Patria wasn't the only thing he was going to be fighting for and Combeferre had a good reason to believe that that woman would be Esmeralda. She embodied everything they were supposed to be fighting for; the kindness in her heart, the compassion which she bestowed upon others and the fearlessness she showed in the face of oppression. If any woman managed to worm their way into Enjolras' heart, it would be and should be her. Even if Enjolras is too dense to realize it at first, Combeferre was always there to give him a nudge along.

With lunch finally taken care of, the three of them sat in comfortable silence as they drank their tea and watched the busy street through the window next to them. Esmeralda's chin was rested in the palm of her hand as she watched the different kinds of people that walked passed, going about their daily business. People were always interesting to Esmeralda, different people had different motivations; lead different lives; had different dreams. She loved guessing a person's backstory from just their appearance, although on the one hand it could be being too judgemental but no, to Esmeralda it was just a game to pass boredom and time. She took a glance at Enjolras, her eyes trailing the outline of his strong, distinct jawline. His features were far too handsome, for his own good. His piercing blue eyes had the capability of igniting a person's inner flame of passion without them realising it was even there in the first place. His supple lips were pursed as his eyes seemed to glare through the window and into the street. Esmeralda would hate to be the person at the end of one of those glares. She felt a small smile tug at the edge of her rosy lips as she noticed the slight unshaved stubble along his jawline, it was cute.

"So Combeferre, do you have a beau?" Esmeralda broke the silence between the trio, almost like she was afraid of it.

Combeferre looked at her wide-eyed as he took a sip of his tea before taking in her question.

"Uh, not as of yet, unfortunately." He answered rather sheepishly.

Esmeralda grinned at his shyness, it was endearing.

"Any future plans for marriage?" It was odd, hearing these types of questions from her.

Normally Esmeralda disliked the mention of marriage because she was so outspoken of against the idea of forceful arranged marriages that were placed upon the women of this society, so it was extremely odd for her to bring it up out of the blue. Combeferre, who was still confused out of his mind on what on earth had compelled Esmeralda to ask such a question, answered carefully.

"Um… I would hope to think I would marry eventually." His hazel eyes met hers. "Most likely not in the next few years, but you can never know when the universe decides to act up."

Esmeralda smiled, the light reaching her eyes, it seemed like his answer had pleased her. She bobbed her head up and down as she sipped on her tea quietly, taking in his answer. Esmeralda watched Combeferre take out his pocket watch and the way his eyebrows shot up as he noticed the time.

" _Mon Dieu,_ I'm afraid I must bid the pair of you farewell." Combeferre hastily placed the coins for his lunch on the table and grabbed for his satchel. "I have only five minutes till my next class."

With that as his farewell, Combeferre sped out of the café door as the pair he had left behind watched him wind through the busy crowds, back to the university.

"It seems you and Combeferre converse often."

Esmeralda turned to Enjolras, green meeting blue. He hadn't said it as a question, it was a statement.

"Well, he was the first one of you lot I had met." She explained to him, rubbing her index finger against the side of her cup at the same time. "And he's a very easy person to talk to, must be a doctor thing."

She smiled, glancing down at the remnants of her tea at the bottom of her mug.

"But why marriage?" Esmeralda's eyes once again found Enjolras' piercing blue ones, he was seeking truth; information. "Of all things you could've talked about at a luncheon, you choose marriage; a subject you deem too uncomfortable to even discuss with your own father, yet you bring it up at a dinner table with men you had known for just over a week."

Esmeralda gave a long and tired sigh, a sigh that Enjolras didn't fail to notice. His jaw tightened and one of his eyebrows raised as he waited for her answer.

"A single woman has got to keep her options open, Monsieur." She used the term 'monsieur' endearingly, as she gave him a sad smile. "I'd like to know who's available in a few years' time, for when the… horrid time comes when I have to find a suitable man to wed."

"And you believe Combeferre is a suitable… _candidate._ " He searched for a better term in his head and came up with nothing.

"He's a fine gentleman. Emphasis on _gentleman_." Her head tilted towards his, catching the light from the window to shine on her midnight hair. "He's kind, engaging and intelligent. He manages to fill my boredom with something other than _more_ boredom. However, I don't think I would be able to see him as anything more than a friend, but with great responsibility comes great sacrifice. Again, though I don't think I could ask Combeferre to do such a thing for me, to live in a loveless marriage with nothing more than a friend as his companion for the rest of his life. It'd be too selfish on my part."

Enjolras couldn't seem to find a response to her surprising confession. He simply stared at her, watching her movements; her body language.

He had figured it out. Her vice. The one thing he couldn't find in the beginning, he had now found, but it was barely a vice in its own part. She was too selfless. Her heart was so righteous and warm she couldn't bare to put the weight of her own burden onto others, without fear of harming them. She cared about other people's well-beings more than she cared for herself. She carried so much weight upon those small shoulders of hers as the only heir to her family, as the only daughter; child to her father's fortunes. She had just proved then she was too selfless for her own capability, she cared about Combeferre's lack of love within a marital relationship with her than the consequences of not finding a husband. She was unbelievable.

"The time will come when my Papa will grow older; weaker. He's always worrying for me, you see; caring for me. What am I to do when he rests on his deathbed worrying about leaving me in life as an unmarried woman with no one to 'protect' me. I wouldn't be able to bare the guilt that would riddle me if I let him pass like that."

Enjolras felt anger boil in his blood. He wasn't angry at Esmeralda, he was angry at their society; the world they lived in. He despised how in their lives, women like Esmeralda were forced to marry young and to give up their life for their new family. They had no choice in matters and were supposed to be compliant with everything they were told. To see such a strong and brave woman like Esmeralda be reduced by such a filial thing made fury rise inside him. He didn't just want to revolutionize France for the greater good now; he wanted to change it for _her_.

"Even if it meant sacrificing your freedom for your father, would you do it?" Enjolras' question seemed to linger in the air for a few seconds as Esmeralda pondered on it.

A clash of bright blue caught dazzling green.

"If it meant that my father could rest easy in death?" A ghost of a smile fell upon her lips as she looked back at Enjolras. "Without a doubt, I would."


	5. Mr Darcy

May's warmth was a sweet and tender kiss compared to the passionate flaring heat wave that was April. Flower buds that sat happily on trees were slowly blooming under the warm sunlight. The breeze that flowed through the air was cooling yet at the same time the warmth from the sun seemed to create the perfect equilibrium for beautiful weather that day.

Esmeralda watched the sunlight bounce off Enjolras' golden-curls, casting a warm halo around his crown. Would she be reprimanded harshly by the rest of the boys for making an angel pun? It seemed fitting at the moment. Enjolras' sun-kissed golden skin from April's generous warm weather sealed the deal, creating the perfect golden combination of his angelic ensemble. If Phoebus or Apollo was too great of a nickname for him then maybe Icarus was a fitting name. The thought however seemed to set a frown into Esmeralda's expression though, because if she recalled correctly Icarus' untimely death was since he tried to soar too high, too close to the sun, forgetting the limitations of his wax wings, which then lead to his plummet to the sea. She secretly hoped that Enjolras would have the ability to fly as high as he wanted without ever falling. She decided to stick with Apollo for now. Though Enjolras' romantic escapades were literally non-existent compared to the sun god he was aptly named after, he was still a true envision of the god himself.

It had been a solid month since they had that heart-wrenching talk about marriage; about Esmeralda's self-proclaimed duty to keep her father's mind at ease, even if it meant sacrificing her freedom. Their companionship only seemed to escalate from there, Esmeralda was more than just an odd woman that shared the same ideals as them now, she was part of them now. She was an academic peer as well as a friend they could confide to, she made forward-thinking ideas and contributed in each of the meetings with her wit and her estranged mind. It was extremely helpful to have a woman's perspective on the matter, Enjolras hadn't realized how many holes there were in his plan when it came to a woman's sense of rights and without Esmeralda there probably would've still been there.

Esmeralda's toes curled into the warm grass she sat on, the cherry blossom tree at her back providing shade over her and the rest of the Les Amis boys as their noses were buried in their studies. Her shoes were abandoned just outside of the small circle they all formed, almost as if they were waiting to get stolen. She had taken a break from her book that rest in her lap for a second, to watch and admire the boys in front of her. They all worked so incredibly hard on their studies and still seemed to make time to plan a whole rebellion, and the fact that all of them were still in their twenties never ceased to astonish her. They were definitely a group of brilliant young men.

Her eyes fell to the fallen cherry blossom branch next to her, and carefully picked off the bloomed flowers from each stem, before dropping the heap of flowers onto Enjolras' golden head. Courfeyrac, who's eyes had caught the action, snorted into his book, the noise causing other members to look up from the paper in front of them. Enjolras, who had obviously caught the retreat of her hands in the peripheral of his vision, merely gave her a glare before returning to his essay, making no real move to remove the flowers that adorned his head of curls for now. The glare he had given her held no real mirth to it, it didn't hold a candle to the glare he saved for the women that would unceremoniously approach him, despite the presence of Esmeralda or not. Esmeralda would hope that she would never ben on the receiving end of one of those glares to the day she passes into the afterlife.

Seemingly more taken with the flowers on the ground than her book, she carefully tucked each stem of the flower in the braid of her hair, creating a mosaic of wildflowers and cherry blossoms in her long braid.

"Must not be a very good book if you'd rather play with your hair then, Esmeralda."

The comment broke Esmeralda out of her flower trance, causing her to look up at Grantaire, who quietly sipped from his flask as he watched her.

"Actually, the books quite good, I'm simply taking a break." Her hands left her hair, and went down to resume the page she had bookmarked.

"What's the book about then?" Grantaire asked curiously.

The sudden conversation between the pair of the studying group had seemingly broken the concentrations of others from their studies, Combeferre had his glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he looked between the chatting pair.

"It's a tale of love and values in a class-conscious England." Enjolras' head slightly perked up as Esmeralda described her book to Grantaire. "It's by a female author, actually, and it's one of the reason's why I was quite drawn to it. The story is about a stubborn young woman, who really has an opinion about quite a lot including why she would not marry simply because of it is expected of her, despite being taught throughout her whole life by her mother that her one purpose in this world was to marry-"

"Sounds a lot like someone we know." Grantaire chuckled heartily.

"Yes- well, that's one of the reason why I'm enjoying it so, Elizabeth's a character that I relate very much to." Esmeralda explained.

More of the boys had their heads up and were listening to her curiously as she described the events of the book. It was only Enjolras, who's head was although down, but listening carefully next to her.

"Anyways, she meet's Mr. Darcy, who's a snobbish and too proud of a man for her liking and firmly believes in superior birth and she swears to loathe him till death-"

"Sounds like an arsehole."

"Oh, he was!" agreed Esmeralda, heartily. "But it was the fact that with the help of Elizabeth's harsh criticism of his person, he understands the reality of how his behaviour is perceived by others and has an enormous re-evaluation of his character. He becomes kinder, more gentlemanly after realizing how much of an arse he's been thanks to Elizabeth. Not everyone is born kind, nor are they born evil. It's not men like Mr Darcy who we need to get rid of, but in fact the men who can't learn from their mistakes and their actions. It's one of the reasons why Mr Darcy is such a brilliant character, he learns and through that Elizabeth accepts him as a man and as a husband."

Enjolras was now watching Esmeralda openly, along with all the other boys. How she managed to get so passionate about a book in a mere matter of seconds was incredible to him. Esmeralda had such a large heart, letting her be passionate over multitudes of ideas and different things.

It was a thing he envied.

He had grown to love her character, how her eyes would light up with passion and happiness when anything she was fond of was discussed. She was very much like Courfeyrac in a sense, her free-spirited nature rivalled the local Casanova's in a way that was slightly different. She didn't let other's judgement, change her mind or the decisions she'd make. She was her own person. She didn't pretend to be a rose hidden among wildflowers, she knew of her affect on people, especially men, and she 'strategically' used it to her advantage as she had once put it.

As much as Enjolras tried to ignore the fondness in his heart for Esmeralda, it was always there, lingering in the back of his mind, only making the odd appearance now and then despite his best efforts to hide it, like just then his mouth had tugged into a smile at Esmeralda's beautiful long rant about her book.

The rest of the boys were heartily amused by Esmeralda's soaring passion for her book, some of them letting an odd giggle escape their lips.

Although she was well sheltered beneath the cherry blossom tree, the few rays of sunlight that had managed to seep through the canopy were reflected gloriously off her shiny black hair.

The atmosphere was warm and cheerful, but soon something caught her eye that only made her lips turn down harshly. In the corner of her peripheral she saw her Papa, standing about twenty feet away, like he normally would, but only this time was he joined by two other men; one young, approximately the same age as the boys around her and a rather elderly man, who's top hat and expensive looking clothing suggested his extreme wealth and high class.

Her Papa had a polite smile on his face, but was adamantly shaking his head, as if he was telling them no but they kept on persisting. Finally, the elderly man handed her Papa a card, most likely contact information, and with a forced but polite smile the pair bid her father a goodbye. Esmeralda watched the pair walk out of sight, before glancing back at her Papa, who exhaled deeply before pocketing the piece of card he had received. Her Papa's eyes finally made contact with hers, and noticing her concerned and troubled expression he gave a kind smile and a nod, as if to say, "It's taken care of".

Ah, another marriage offer.

It seemed Combeferre had noticed Esmeralda's troubled expression and glanced back and forth between her and her father.

"Esmeralda is there something that's troubling you?" He asked concernedly.

Esmerelda responded with a smile that didn't seem to reach her eyes and gave a small assuring nod in Combeferre's direction.

"There's nothing to worry about Combeferre, it seems my Papa has given yet another rejection."

"Quite the ladies man, is he?" Courfeyrac joked merrily.

Esmeralda cleared her throat harshly before responding, "Actually he was rejecting on my behalf, it seems that it was another marriage proposal."

Esmeralda found herself flustered at the sudden deafening silence that laid like blanket around the group, with most of the boys staring at her, while Enjolras merely read his textbook.

"Do you… get those often?" Marius' voice was the first to break through tense air, as his hesitant and shy voice carried its way towards her.

"Now that I'm coming to my 18th year, they're becoming a lot more common." She sighed dejectedly. "It's not something I can help though, unfortunately."

"Well, we all know how fond you are of marriage." Courfeyrac's playful tone was comforting as they discussed the abhorred subject, making Esmeralda smile just slightly.

"Yes, I suppose you do." She chuckled softly. "But soon I'm going to reach a point where I can't run from it anymore, and I'll have to consider my options seriously."

Esmeralda acted like the mood setter of the group, if she was happy they were happy, but if she was troubled or sad, so were the rest of them.

"Just marry one of these chumps, Esmeralda." Grantaire said, taking another swig from his flask before laughing heartily. "I'm sure none of them would object."

Esmeralda opened her mouth, but then soon promptly closed it, like she was hesitating on what she was going to say next.

"Well… if you must know, I have pondered about it."

It was at that moment Esmeralda's words seemed to capture all the boys' attention, snapping their heads up from their studies to her, even Enjolras' pen had stilled on his paper as his eyes curiously gazed over at Esmeralda, who was bashfully chuckling under her hand.

"Really, now?" Courfeyrac was obviously pleased, his interest practically gleaming in his eyes.

"Yes, well you boys are probably the only men I get along with, let's not forget the only people I get along with." Esmeralda tucked a stray tuff of hair behind her ear. "I'd like to hope that when I do indeed marry, it'd be someone whose company I enjoyed, someone who wouldn't restrain me from being- well me."

The conversation was getting all too familiar for Enjolras' liking. His grip on his metal pen seemed to whiten has he was reminded of the extremely unpleasant talk they had had about a month ago about Esmeralda's marriage endeavours. He remembered vividly, the glistening moistness of her eyes as she talked about the duties she'd have to carry out before her father's untimely passing. It sickened him that such a trivial thing such as marriage had the ability to almost reduce one of the most strong-willed people he knew to tears.

As the rest of the boys joked merrily about who Esmeralda would choose out of all of them, she felt her gaze subconsciously drift to the man sat next to her. Enjolras' eyes were trained on the essay in his lap, however his pen wasn't moving. It was simply gripped in his hand as he pondered over his next words to scribble down. His sharp features like his cutting jawline and his high cheeks bones were accentuated in the light of the sun, making him look like a beautifully sculpted marble statue. Although many always compared Enjolras to a marble statue, saying that although his looks were parallel to an angel's, his heart was as cold and solid as marble. It was a statement that Esmeralda only agreed with partly. It was indeed true that his looks rivalled a beautifully sculpted marble statue, however his heart was very much human and very much made of flesh. His heart was his true attribute, he held so much passion within that heart of his, so much passion for his country, for his friends, for the revolution. Only a blind and deaf man would say Enjolras had no heart. Although the sole reason Esmeralda kept Enjolras' company the most wasn't the fact that he was extremely pleasing to look at, it certainly didn't hurt.

Esmeralda realised in that moment that although she was hauntingly similar to dear Elizabeth Bennet, Enjolras posed as a striking double for Mr Darcy. Like Mr Darcy, Enjolras was too handsome for his own good, and had flocks of women coming their way from all sorts of direction, however in order to send those girls scrambling back to their guardians all they needed was one look. Their personalities made others look upon them with disdain and contempt: "If only he was more amiable" they whispered, and their ideas on life and the social construct in general (although the two had very different opinions on the matter) made the majority grimace in horror. Both were stubborn as mules, Esmeralda comically thought, letting a tiny snort escape from herself. However in Mr Darcy's case we knew the happy ending, where in Enjolras' case we did not. Mr Darcy changed himself for the better for Elizabeth, her words making him realise that his outlook on life was simply to ancient for her to ever consider him as a husband, but for Esmeralda she wouldn't have Enjolras any different. He was perfection in it's finest form. All she could do was help him improve on becoming more of that.

She was openly looking at Enjolras, whether he knew it or not, he hadn't objected so far. Esmeralda tilted her head back and forth, trying to catch different angles of the sunlight bouncing off the Enjolras' golden head of curls. She supposed it wouldn't be bad to be married to Enjolras, no, it wouldn't be bad at all. However, she felt a smirk tug at the edge of her lips as she was reminded of how Enjolras would always brutally reject any woman that would come his way, but then again, she was a woman and here she was, sharing his company like no other woman has before. She had done the impossible, and had managed to get Enjolras to tolerate and some may even say enjoy her company.

What's to say that she wouldn't be able to take it the next step further?

Yes, she supposed it wouldn't be so bad being married to Enjolras at all.

She might as well let herself fall for the man along the way.


	6. In My Life There Is Red

Another month full of warmth and joy flew by, it had been the most beautiful month in Esmeralda's eyes, her memories were filled with sounds of uncontrollable giggles as glasses clinked in the background; long thought-inspiring walks along the canal Saint-Martin at sunset with her newly found friends. Her heart was wavering from it's firm stance in her chest for the beautiful blonde revolutionary. She felt it. She knew it.

She had known it since the first time she had laid eyes on him, that he was different; that he wasn't like any other man she had ever encountered in her entire life. She knew… that if he offered his hand in marriage to her she'd take it within a single heartbeat. However, that was a scenario that would never come true, no matter how she would replay the scene her imagination made up in her mind repeatedly, she knew how Enjolras loathed the concept of marriage. It didn't make her daydream any less about it though.

She could almost envision those electric blue eyes in front of her, staring into her own emerald ones. Esmeralda had always thought how cold his eyes were, the glacier that seemed to hide in his eyes gave menacing looks to unwanted strangers when they needed to, but now she knew that the hottest of fires burned bright blue.

 _"How strange, this feeling that my life's begun at last  
This change, can people really fall in love so fast?  
Esmeralda, what's wrong with you?  
Have you been too much on your own?  
So many things unclear  
So many things unknown._

 _In my life  
There are so many questions and answers  
That somehow seem wrong  
In my life  
There are times when I catch in the silence  
The sigh of a faraway song  
And it sings  
Of a world that I long to see  
Out of reach  
Just a whisper away  
Waiting for me."_

Esmeralda unwrapped the mass of sheets around her lithe body and hastily jumped out of bed, walking with careful footsteps to her open window. She gazed out into the beautiful lush garden in front of her, the colour of the grass and the leaves matching her emerald orbs as her eyes caught onto a fluttering butterfly in the air. She released a small sigh, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over her.

 _"Does he know I'm right here?  
Do I know if he's true?  
Does he see what I see?  
Does he feel what I feel? _

_In my life I'm no longer alone  
Now that love in my life  
Is so near  
Tell me now, tell me dear."_

She crept down the hallway with quiet steps till she reached her father's study.

As she grew closer with her friends; to Enjolras, she found her father slowly drawing away from her. It was only today she had bumped into Marius Pontmercy, by chance, in a square earlier in the evening. It was like every step closer she took towards those boys, she took a step away from her father and in no ways possible, were she able to stay with both.

Her father was more lenient with her more than ever, letting her walk around Paris with men he hadn't even been introduced to yet and letting her stay out late with them, it was almost as if he had been occupied with something more important than her. Esmeralda had stumbled upon him in his office multiple of times, with his head resting in his hands; afraid she'd disturb him, she had walked away, leaving her father to occupy his own thoughts. Every time she gazed at her Papa, she saw the storm in his eyes grow, like the inner turmoil within himself grew with it. She noticed the redness of his eyes in the morning, despite him saying he had slept like a baby the night before. It ripped her heart into pieces to see him fall apart in her hands.

It was on this day she had had enough.

The sun was about to set over the city of Paris, colouring the sky a beautiful array of colours as it cast an orange hue into the small cottage the Fauchelevents lived in. Esmeralda had been quietly watching her father sigh and grumble from his study door for the past five minutes. She watched him run his hand through his hair multiple times, letting out a defeated sigh every now and again as he stared through the window of his study. It was today, Esmeralda would find out what had been tormenting her father this passed month so horribly.

"Papa." Her voice came out as a whisper, but Valjean had heard it anyways.

He turned to the doorway, letting his eyes take in his daughter as she relaxed against the side of the door frame.

"Esmeralda." He let out another sigh. "What is it you need, my child?"

Esmeralda swallowed the hard lump in her throat and carefully made her way into the room to sit on the small chair opposite her father's desk.

"This past month you have…" She sighed, trying to think of the right words, "Been acting a bit off, Papa."

Valjean's back tensed as he took in her words. The movements of his hands stilled on his desk as he faced away from her. His eyes seemed to harden as he continued to stare through the window, away from Esmeralda.

"I'm not sure I understand your words, Esmeralda." The words he spoke were grave and only incited sadness within Esmeralda.

"You know what I speak of Papa…" She wringed her hands together nervously. "What is it you've been hiding from me this past month?"

Valjean stood suddenly, not sparing a glance in Esmeralda's direction.

" _There's so little I know, that I'm longing to know of the man that you were a time long ago…"_ The melodic tone of her voice travelled through the tense air between them. _"There's so little you say of the life you have known; Why you keep to yourself; Why you're always alone…"_

She gazed sadly into his eyes, watching the storm pool within them once again.

 _"So dark, so dark and deep_ …" Esmeralda paused _, "The secrets that you keep."_

They faced each other now, the sun had already bid farewell and the moon was in full shine above them as the dazzling moonlight creeped through the window of the study, illuminating their solemn faces.

 _"In my life…"_ Esmeralda hesitantly took a step closer to her Papa, carefully taking his hands in hers. _"Please forgive what I say, you are loving and gentle and good. But Papa, dear Papa in your eyes I am still like the child that would dance in the woods."_

Valjean quickly slipped his hands from Esmeralda's causing a frown to appear on her face.

 _"No more words, it is a time that is dead. There are words that are better unheard… better unsaid."_ His voice was raised as he quickly left the room, letting a desperate Esmeralda trickle behind him.

 _"In my life… I'm no longer a child and I yearn for the truth that you know!"_ The strength of her voice increased as she persisted after her Papa, following him up to his bedroom where he heaved a heavy sigh and lowered himself to his bed. _"Of the years… years ago."_

Valjean's eyes remained tightly closed as he spoke his next words firmly to Esmeralda.

"You will learn that truth is given by God to us all in our time, in our turn."

A breath of defeat seemed to flee from Esmeralda's lungs as she caught the words her Papa had thrown her way. She blinked, standing still for a few seconds before turning dejectedly turning away from her father and treaded down the hallway.

* * *

Loud chatter and laughter filled the air of the back room of Café Musain as Les Amis d'ABC enjoyed and revelled in each other's company. Only Enjolras, who's arms were braced firmly against the table as he leaned over the multiple stacks of papers in front of him, seemed to be silent. He felt the frustration within himself grow as his mind seemed to keep wondering back to a certain mademoiselle with brilliantly emerald eyes. Her presence clouded his thoughts, yet at the same time her presence was missed. He quickly assessed the room, his eyes darting from corner to corner; his ears carefully listening for her melodic laughter to float through the air, yet there was none. She was absent.

For 2 months straight, ever since she had met them, Esmeralda had attended all the meetings. She continuously showed up on time, with a dazzling smile on her face and with many ideas in hand to share with them; so, you could imagine the confusion to not see the young mademoiselle at the meeting. Esmeralda had never once broken one of her promises to Enjolras, and it was earlier yesterday that she promised she would definitely be at the Café tonight. Enjolras wasn't particularly sure why he had specifically asked Esmeralda to make sure she'd come to this meeting _tonight,_ maybe it was the voice in the back of his head that told him he'd miss her too much if she was away.

But how could he miss her? To miss someone, you would have to form an attachment to them; to form a bond of some kind, is that what they had? Was it really just friendship between the pair of them? Or was it something more? Something more passionate, fierier; something that burned in the hearts of the two of them without them ever acknowledging it.

Enjolras prided himself to be an unwavering man, he had once promised himself that he would never devote any part of his heart to the means of women, yet here he was with his heart in throws of pain as his mind was enthralled with worry over Esmeralda's lack of presence. He had always thought love made a man a fool, that if any part of a man's mind wasn't focused on the task at hand it would sabotage the quality of their work.

Ever since the day Esmeralda had spilt her heart out to him, how she had spread out her raw emotions about her worry and love for her Father over a matter so trivial as marriage, his heart had been attached to her. However, it wasn't trivial anymore; not to her, not to him. Marriage was an inconvenient problem for Esmeralda, a source of worry and anxiety for her, and therefore it was a problem for him as well. He hated to admit it, to admit the fact that an alluring, allusive woman like Esmeralda had managed to worm her way into the pit of his heart, however she was much more than that. She was so much more than her outside appearances. If you looked passed her beauty, passed the flirtatious comments and into the heart of Esmeralda, you would find the enormous amount of kindness, selflessness and the unswerving compassion she held in her heart for the people around her. How she had managed to put up with his berating and irritating arse these passed few months he had no idea.

He didn't deserve her.

He didn't deserve the men that surrounded him at this very moment.

His eyes finally lifted to gaze upon the multiples of young men around him, his thoughts strayed to how they were all so young, yet they had come to join his cause; to join his arms in battle. Did he really have the right to proclaim himself as their leader? Was he truly good enough to fill that role? Was he good enough for Esmeralda… to love?

He finally straightened himself, readying himself for the meeting ahead. He could no longer wait for Esmeralda to show.

 _"The time is near…"_ The chatter disappeared into thin air as the whole room's focus shifted onto Enjolras. _"So near that it's stirring the blood in their veins and yet beware… don't let the wine go to your brains."_

With a harsh glare towards Grantaire, who's only response was to continue to sip on his bottle, Enjolras continued.

 _"We need a sign! To rally the people; to call them in arms; to bring them in line!"_

Joly's eyes rested on Marius, watching the young Pontmercy stare into nothing.

"Marius wake up." Joly's words seemed to jolt Marius from whatever reverie the young man was enraptured in. _"What's wrong today? You look as if you've seen ghost."_

Grantaire strutted his way over to the solemn man and poured a hefty glass of wine for him.

 _"Some wine and say what's going on."_

Marius chuckled lightly before darting his eyes across his peers.

 _"A ghost, you say? A ghost maybe."_

Enjolras ears didn't fail as he picked up the words Marius had uttered a few metres over. He looked up from his table and casted his eyes to Marius who had strolled over to an empty chair.

 _"She was just like a ghost to me. One minute there, then she was gone."_

"Oh yeah? Then who was this ' _she'_ that you speak of?" It seemed Grantaire didn't catch the freezing glare Enjolras had sent over to him, either that or he had simply ignored it.

Marius seemed hesitant to say, as if the mademoiselle in question would get backlash if he revealed her name.

"…Esmeralda."

Enjolras' whole body seemed to freeze at the name. He felt the tension rise through his whole body as her name was uttered upon the lips of Marius. It seemed that Enjolras wasn't the only one to be bewitched by Esmeralda. He slowly turned his head to behold the sight of a blushing Marius as the rest of Les Amis teased him for having taken fancy to Esmeralda. However, anger seemed to swirl in the pit of Enjolras' chest as he took in the lovestruck Marius before him. So many questions seemed to run through his confused mind all at once. Was he truly getting angry at Marius for simply falling in love with Esmeralda? How hypocritical he felt, as he had spent that last ten minutes pondering over his own feelings for the mademoiselle. Or was this… jealously? Jealously – the sickening combination of possessiveness, suspicion, rage and humiliation; all summed up in one emotion. Jealously was and always will be an emotion Enjolras would loathe till the day he died. It was jealously that managed to incarcerate a man enough to have an affect on his actions and his mentality, more than love.

Love was a luxury.

With the people so close to starting this revolution they had been planning for years, could he afford to fall in love with Esmeralda? He couldn't _afford_ to… but he had. He wondered what is was that Marius was in love with; was it the way her emerald eyes seemed to glisten every time she laughed? Or the way she was so unswerving to her friends and family, the amount of loyalty that she kept in her heart. Enjolras could've spent hours on reasons why Esmeralda was such a beautiful person without even having to touch upon her looks. Could Marius do the same?

Combeferre had been watching, spectating this whole time. His eyes carefully ran over the occupants that filled the room from his seclusive corner in the back as Marius and Enjolras seemed to be in their own little worlds. He watched Enjolras' back stiffen as Marius had uttered the name of the young mademoiselle who had managed to crawl into a small part of each their hearts and make her home there. Combeferre also noticed her lack of presence within the room tonight, in fact it was hard _not_ to notice the lack of bubbly laughter that would float through the air, or the sound of her angelic voice as she voiced her never-ending supplies of ideas and prospects to the group of men around her.

His eyes watched Grantaire as the drunk's eyebrows raised at Marius' confession of love.

" _I am agog! I am aghast! Wil Marius confess at last? I've never heard him Ooh and Aah."_ The mocking tone of Grantaire's voice was slyly hidden under the drunken slur of all of it. _"You talk of battles to be won! Yet here he comes like Don Juan, it is better than an Opera!"_

The bashful smile on Marius' face seemed to fade as Grantaire all but sang out the last words.

Enjolras' gaze never faltered from Marius, he couldn't reprimand Marius for he was just as hopeless as him; having fallen in love with the same woman, at the same time. Yet he needed to have the right motivations at the front of his mind, he needed to keep his men together before the biggest event of their young lives happened. He couldn't afford to have Esmeralda in the centre of his mind, he needed that place for Patria; for the revolution.

 _"It is time for us all to decide who we are…"_ The room quietened again at the sound of Enjolras' voice trickling through the warm air. _"Do we fight for the right to a night at the opera now?"_ The fire in his eyes seemed to burn as he looked around his table of men. " _Have you asked of yourselves, what's the price you might pay? Is it simply a game for a rich young boy to play? The colours of the world are changing day by day…"_

Combeferre could see what Enjolras was doing. The only fool that was blind enough to his own love for a woman was Enjolras. Combeferre could almost read the inner workings of Enjolras' mind for he knew him that well. He was pushing Esmeralda away, putting her in the back of his mind because he believed that the mind was not a place where revolution and love could coincide. Combeferre knew he had to stop Enjolras before things got out of hand before his leader loses the love of his life forever.

 _"Red, the blood of angry men_

 _Black, the dark of ages past_

 _Red, the world about to dawn_

 _Black, the night that ends at last!"_

Enjolras' eyes never seemed to waver from Marius as he stood from his seat, but Marius soon followed suit.

 _"Had you seen her today, you might know how it feels…_

 _To be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight."_

Enjolras scoffed in the face of Marius, keeping his true emotions of conflict hidden behind a cold stoic mask.

 _"Had you been there today, you might also have known…_

 _How your world may be changed in one burst of light,_

 _And what was right seems wrong_

 _And what was wrong seems right!"_

Enjolras took a dangerous step closer to Marius, the pair almost chest to chest, and lowered his voice to a dangerous level.

"I know more than you think, Pontmercy."

Marius' brows furrowed in confusion, but before he could ask Enjolras the meaning of his words Grantaire's voice bellowed through the room.

" _Red!"_

 _"I feel my soul on fire!_ " Enjolras' piercing glare seemed to cut right through Grantaire, but it seemed the drunkard didn't get the message.

 _"Black!"_ Grantaire gestured mockingly.

 _"My world if she's not there!"_

 _"Red!_ " The whole room seemed to join in.

 _"The colour of desire!"_

 _"Black!"_

 _"The colour of despair!"_

Combeferre could see the inner turmoil tumbling through Enjolras' brain like it was a storm in the middle of a bright summers day. His eyes held the fire, yet his words held the storm. Combeferre hoped Enjolras wasn't about to say something he was going to regret in the future.

"Marius you are no longer a child!" Marius let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair to comb the mess upon his head. _"I do not doubt you mean it well, but now there is a higher cause-"_

"I know." Marius replied with a smile to his friend.

Marius knew Enjolras always meant well, but sometimes the fool had no idea what the heart was capable of, or was he?

 _"Who cares about your lonely soul? We strive towards a larger goal."_ These words that flowed from Enjolras' mouth, did he mean them? His heart was doubting his brain. _"Our little lives don't count at all."_

For the first time in Enjolras' life his heart and mind weren't in sync. Patria wasn't the only thing in his heart anymore, for he found Esmeralda lodged deep within it. With his mind battling for dominance over his heart, his body was a turmoil. Was he truly reprimanding Marius for the greater good of all of them? Or was he doing it for his own selfish goals?

 _"Red, the blood of Angry men_

 _Black, the dark of ages past_

 _Red, a world about to dawn_

 _Black, the night that ends at last!"_

"Listen everybody!" The Les Amis had been too caught up with themselves to have noticed the entrance of their youngest member, Gavroche, enter the hall.

The attention of the whole room fell onto the young boy.

"General Lamarque is dead."

The shock seeped into the veins of Les Amis as they received the news of the death of the only high standing general that was on their side through these hard-unbearable times. It was as if light had managed to crack through a cloudy sky as Enjolras saw an opportunity, an opportunity he wasn't willing to lose.

 _"Lamarque, his death is the hour of fate."_ Enjolras' body swivelled to face the rest of the room. " _The people's man… his death is the sign we await!_

 _"On his funeral day, they will honour his name with the light of rebellion ablaze in their eyes._

 _From the candles of grief, we will kindle our flame._

 _On the tomb of Lamarque shall our barricade rise._

 _The time is here!_

 _Let us welcome it gladly with courage and cheer!"_

The fires in each of other souls were lit by Enjolras' inspiring words.

 _"Let us take to the streets with no doubt in our hearts-"_

 _"But a jubilant shout!"_

 _"They will come one and all!"_

 _"They will come when we call!"_

The voices of the men carried through the warm air of the night as they shouted and cheered their calls of revolution, with their hearts pounding their chests and the fires of passion aflame in their hearts.


	7. C'est Ca L'amour

Éponine's life had been extremely uneventful these past two months. Every day she found that she was losing Marius bit by bit to a woman she hadn't even met, but all she knew about her was that her name was Esmeralda Fauchelevent and she had each of the boys from the Les Amis wrapped around her pinkie fingers. Was she jealous? Éponine decided to herself in the beginning that she didn't have the right to be jealous of the mademoiselle, since Marius was never hers to begin with in the first place, nor were any of the other Les Amis; she wasn't even close to the rest of them like she was with Marius.

She gazed solemnly at the small cottage that sat in front of her.

Why on earth had she decided that she'd take Marius' request to check up on Esmeralda without question? Maybe because he had flashed her the smile she loved so dearly that she couldn't help but say yes. At the same time, she was curious, curious as to who this mysterious mademoiselle was and how she managed to capture the hearts of each and every single one of the Les Amis in less than a week.

The garden was small, yet at the same time it overflowed with wildlife. Butterflies seemed to perch on the large array of flowers that were spread across the lawn while vines of ivy tangled up the wall of the house. Éponine had found out the location of Esmeralda's small home from the charming Combeferre, although he did give her an odd look when she asked, he didn't question her and gave her the address. Éponine inched closer to the house, walking up to the black iron gates and cast her eyes through the shrubbery to get a closer look at the open window of a downstairs room. That was when her eyes caught her.

Éponine's eyes snagged onto the lithe-slim figure that lay relaxed on the edge of the window sill. It was a beautiful young mademoiselle, no doubt the infamous Esmeralda that Marius couldn't seem to shut up about. The young mademoiselle's black hair cascaded down her shoulders in tumbles as it laid untied on her head. Her olive tanned skin seemed to glow under the moonlight as the moon shone high above her. The rosy lips of the woman were parted in song, as she sang a sweet lullaby that echoed through the warm evening air.

 _"Mmmm mmmm,_

 _So, this is love mmmm,_

 _So, this is love,_

 _So, this is what makes life divine,_

 _I'm all aglow,_

 _Mmmm,_

 _And now I know,_

 _The key to all heaven is mine,_

 _My heart as wings mmmm,_

 _And I can fly,_

 _I'll touch every star in the sky,_

 _So, this is the miracle,_

 _That I've been dreaming of,_

 _Mmmm,_

 _MmmMm,_

 _C'est_ _ç_ _a l'amour…"_

Éponine was stunned. She now knew one of the reasons why the lads were so taken with this woman, were it not for her beauty it would definitely be for her voice! Or was there more to her than Éponine saw?

"Esmeralda!"

Éponine ducked on instinct and watched carefully from the other side of the garden wall. Her eyes watched how Esmeralda jerked out of song and clumsily climb off the window frame as an older, more elderly man came into view of the window.

"What are you doing on the window?" the angry tone was definite in the man's voice as he spoke to Esmeralda.

Esmeralda's reply was too quiet and muffled for Éponine to properly hear what she said, so she continued to gaze on through the iron gates, entranced with the pair's interaction.

She watched the man gaze out through the garden, his eyes searching with a troubled expression marring his face. He looked like a man he would've been handsome in his youth, but time had been harsh for one could see the lines of exhaustion and pain pressed into his face. He quickly grabbed the windows and slammed them shut with a loud bang that seemed to echo harshly through the garden.

Éponine finally turned away from her view of the small cottage, she was hoping to finally gain understanding of Marius' deep infatuation with the young woman before her by this visit, but it seemed it only made her heart cry in pain even more.

A loud scuffle along the ground behind her caught her ear, so she spun round and ended up facing the familiar gangly figure of her father and his "friends" at the other end of the ally.

"Who is this hussy?!"

The angry thick tone of her father seemed to grate against her ears and she heard the deafening footsteps draw closer to her.

"It's your brat 'Ponine, don't you know your own kid?" replied one of the other men. "What's she hangin' about here?"

"Éponine get on home you're not needed in this." Éponine spun with her father as he circled around her menacingly. "We're enough here without you."

"What is your business at this house?" Her eyes were wide, pleading for information.

"Whatsit tooya?" the snarky remark fell from one of the other men that stood by her father's side.

"I know this house, I tell you." She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "There's nothing here for you! Just the old man and the girl; they live ordinary lives."

Monsieur Thénardier took a menacing step closer to his daughter, causing her to shrink back in fear.

"Don't interfere. You've got some gall!" Éponine's eyes darted nervously to the men that surrounded her. "Take care, young miss for you've got a lot to say."

She backed away quickly, panic filling her desperate eyes.

"I'm gonna scream! I'm gonna warn them here!"

"One little scream and you'll regret it for a year!" Monsieur Thénardier's voice echoed through the hollow ally ominously as the threat seemed to settle in the pit of Éponine's stomach.

Her scream cut through the night air, piercing its way through quiet neighbourhood.

Monsieur Thénardier and his entourage cringed at the crying sound of Éponine's scream.

"You wait, my girl! You'll rue this night!" Monsieur Thénardier stormed towards Éponine, making her feet scramble across the cobblestones behind her. "I'll make you scream!"

Having enough of the nonsense that managed to spit its way out of her father's mouth, Éponine spat at his face spitefully; hitting him right in the eye. However, before she knew it she was sent tumbling to the floor while she clutched her bruising cheek.

"It's the police!"

* * *

Esmeralda laid in her soft bed, bedsheets pooling around her. Something was egging her mind like an unwanted nudge to the side, was she forgetting something? She had been so caught up with her father earlier this evening she had abandoned everything else that was occupying her mind. She searched through the aisles of the library that were her brain, looking through each section to try and give her a clue to what she had forgotten.

She came upon an aisle, an aisle that was filled with bright red books with gold linings on the spines. Each book had their own title, their own memory.

She had come upon her section dedicated to Enjolras.

Yes, the young dashing rebel had his own section dedicated in her vast library that was her mind, but she couldn't help it! Her thoughts were filled with his presence almost every day, she had to store them somewhere. Esmeralda ran her fingers along the red spines of the books that contained multiple memories of her time with the Les Amis so far; memories of Enjolras.

Red was his colour,

And his colour only.

When Esmeralda thought of the colour red, she thought of _him_.

The colour red was so versatile. On the one hand it was the colour for passion, desire and love, yet on the other it was the colour of anger, fire and blood. Just like the colour red, Enjolras had two different sides to him; he could be charming, brilliant and youthful, yet at the same time he was capable of being terrible.

Esmeralda's mind ran through all the meetings she had attended so far-

Wait…

Meetings?

Esmeralda gasped as she tumbled off her bed in a flurry; she had forgotten tonight's meeting! She had even promised Enjolras the day before she would specifically make sure to attend this one on time. She flew towards her wardrobe, raking through her multiple dresses to find one simple enough that she could simply slip on and be out the door in seconds. However, the piercing scream and multiple shouts that he ears caught made her pause.

Where had that come from? Outside?

Just as she was about to open her window to curiously investigate the street, her bedroom door burst open, revealing a very dishevelled-looking Papa; his eyes wide with anxiety. Esmeralda quickly hid the dress she held in her hand behind her back, hoping her father hadn't noticed it and turned to face him properly.

"Esmeralda, we're going to our apartment in Rue de l'Homme armé. It's going to be safer there." Esmeralda's jaw slackened, and her eyes widened in shock as she took her father's words in. "Then I'm going to arrange our safe passage to England."

"…No." She whispered in disbelief.

She couldn't leave now! She hadn't even said goodbye to her friends; to Enjolras! They were expecting her _tonight,_ how could she just up and leave them with the revolution so close?

"Hurry Esmeralda, prepare to leave." Her Papa was breathless as he spoke, with his eyes darting around the room nervously. "Say no more. Tonight, we'll away!"

She staggered closer to her Papa, her eyes wide and pleading as her hands reached out to hold him.

"No, please, Papa, we can't! Why now of all times?!"

"Hurry Esmeralda!"

She felt the breath in her lungs leave her as her father gripped her by the arms and shook her roughly, as if he was trying to knock some sense into her.

"It's time to close another door and live another day." Papa finally released her from his vice grip and she stumbled clumsily, grabbing onto her dressing table for support. "Get dressed, we're leaving now!"

"No please!"

But her pleads were useless, Valjean had already stormed out of the door and had whisked up to his own bedroom and started packing his necessities.

She didn't want to close this door! She wanted to live in the present; in a time where she could laugh and tease with her friends; in a time where she could be swept off her feet by a golden-haired angel that understood every fibre of her being. She wasn't ready to say goodbye to all this just yet. She rubbed her hands on her face, trying to wipe the frustration away. What could she do? She hadn't spoken to any of the Les Amis all day except for her brief encounter with Marius earlier in the day! Her only option was to leave a letter, no matter how scruffy or short it was it was better than nothing. She grabbed the nearest sheet of paper and her pen and scribbled her situation and circumstances as quickly as possible. A few of the lads knew where she lived, she only hoped that they cared enough about her to check up on her for all the absences that would occur in her leave. She penned the letter to Enjolras, hoping that he'd be the one to intercept this letter and quickly signed it with a kiss; her lipstick shade – so that he knew it was her and not someone who was imitating her. She quickly unclasped the necklace around her neck, for the first time in 10 years she had taken it off, because she knew she was going to be coming back for it. She lowered the necklace into the envelope before sealing it tightly with the wax from her candle.

She rushed into the garden, butterflies floating around her as she lodged her scruffy letter into a holding into one of the crooks of the side of the iron gate. She rushed back inside, hoping the flurry of her nightgown wouldn't catch her Papa's eye from his bedroom window.

She could only hope that someone would find that letter now, for hope was all she had left.


	8. Vive La République

Éponine's unwavering eyes watch as the young mademoiselle stuffed a letter clumsily into a wedge of the iron gate and return a few minutes later, out of her nightgown and into an expensive looking dress with the older gentleman gripping her arm in what seemed like a python-tight grip and tugged her towards the carriage that awaited them an alley over.

Once the carriage was finally out of sight, Éponine carefully crept from her hiding place and up to the iron gates. The cottage that was once alive with light and warmth was now hollow and cold as it stood in front of her menacingly. She plucked the letter from it's resting place and carefully opened it to read the messy contents.

The letter was addressed to… Enjolras?

Her expression was knit in confusion, as her brows furrowed, and her mouth frowned. Was Marius not this girl's beau? Her frown deepened further as she continued reading her way through the letter. The girl was obviously fawning over Enjolras! Not Marius! Éponine felt her heart tug at the fact that Marius, just like her, was in unrequited love with a woman that was in fact in love with his close friend. She gripped the letter tightly, crinkling the edges of the paper in her small hands. How selfish was this mademoiselle? She already had a man deeply in love with her, yet she's tripping over her own heels for a man that most likely didn't even love her back! Éponine had met the esteemed leader of the Les Amis only a few times in the past when she had gone to café Musain to meet Marius and each counter she had had with the blonde rebel included the slight nod of acknowledgement on his part and an awkward smile on hers, he didn't seem the type to fall hopelessly in love with a woman.

She hurried back to café Musain with the letter gripped tightly in her hand as the rain poured down above her, soaking her dress through to the bone. As she drew closer to the entrance, the warm light from the upstairs room casted a warm glow down to the pavement, causing the puddles to shine a brilliant orange glow as she hurried through the entrance. Ignoring the shouting barmaid, she hastened up the stairs in the flurry, only coming to a stop in front of the door that Marius and the rest of the Les Amis hid behind. She knocked hesitantly against the heavy wooden door. The chattering on the other side of the door seemed to cease and Éponine felt her heart fly up into her throat.

The door was swung open so suddenly, she jumped back in surprise and was met with the whole room staring at her. In front of her stood Enjolras wearing an expression that could only be described as a mix between disappointment and a grimace. Whispers seemed to circle around the room at her arrival, her eyes spied Marius in the back, his eyes lighting up with recognition as he caught sight of her.

"Mademoiselle Éponine, what brings you here tonight?" Enjolras' voice was gruff and low as she spoke to her, what a way to make her feel welcomed.

Before she could answer though, Marius had rushed forwards to the doorway; his smile lighting up the small hallway they stood in.

"Éponine! Did you find her?" Marius' voice was full of hope as he asked.

"Find who, exactly?" Enjolras questioned, turning his body to face Marius on the other side of him.

Éponine glanced between the two men with panic setting into her eyes. Who should she answer first? Marius, who's eyes of innocence seemed to bare into her soul or Enjolras, who's own pair of eyes held the fires of the setting sun in them. Luckily for her, Marius came to her rescue and gave the answer to Enjolras.

"I asked Éponine of a favour, which was to visit Esmeralda's home because she was mysteriously absent tonight."

Enjolras seemed to deem the answer acceptable enough as he nodded his head in understanding, before turning back to Éponine.

"So, where is she?"

"Uh-" She stuttered hopelessly, leading Enjolras to sigh in frustration and for Marius to send him a pointed look. "She's- um gone."

Enjolras' head jerked up at her in surprise, his fiery eyes bore into hers.

"Gone? How can she possibly be gone?" His tone was frustrated, yet at the same time it was pleading as if the information she held was life-costing.

"Éponine, what do you mean?" Marius' tone however was softer and calmer, yet at the same time his eyes held the same pleading that was hidden in Enjolras' voice.

"She- I mean I saw the uh- older monsieur take her into a carriage." Both gentlemen in front of her furrowed their brows. "I overheard that they're making passage to England tomorrow."

The silence of the room was as loud as it was deafening.

Combeferre, like the rest of the room, had been watching and listening the whole time. His eyes caught the distressed face Enjolras pulled before he clapped a hand over his mouth and walked about into the centre of the room. Enjolras ran both of his hands through his hair at the same time, only God knew what kind of thoughts he was thinking right now. His face glistened under the candlelight as a light sheen of sweat formed from the humid night.

"Combeferre!"

Combeferre's head jerked up in the direction his name was bellowed. His eyes caught Enjolras' burning blue orbs as they locked onto each other.

"Come, we're going to visit the Fauchelevent household." Enjolras dashed across the room to grab his red coat and soon fled out the room with Combeferre stumbling behind him.

Éponine barely had enough time to jump out of the monsieur's' ways before the went rushing past her and down the flight of stairs. Marius gave her a kind smile before speeding after the pair that had just passed her, her eyes following his figure as he flew down the stairs. The letter she gripped behind her back felt like a dumbbell in her hand as felt the wave of guilt wash over her for not giving them the letter. She was being petty, she realized, but it was too late now. Enjolras was probably already half way there if he kept up the speed he flew down the stairs with.

She'll just have to carry this guilty weight for now.

* * *

Enjolras panted heavily as he finally came to stop in front of Esmeralda's house while Combeferre placed his hands on his knees as he tried to finally regain his breath. They both observed the area; the houses lights were off and the black iron gate in front of them was already swung wide open. Enjolras jogged over to the front door, banging on it with all his might.

"Esmeralda!" He jiggled the handle of the doorway and let out a sound of surprise as the door willingly swung open.

The volume of pounding footsteps sounded behind the pair as Marius had finally arrived at the scene, openly taking in the empty house. Enjolras took one glance back at Combeferre and stepped through the doorway into the small entrance room. He gazed around the room, taking in the cosy household. There was still a pen and ink pot left lying on the table to their left and a glass of water sitting on a nearby coffee table. Enjolras stepped carefully through the house, making his way through the front living room and into the narrow hallway leading to the stairs.

Just as he was about to make his way up the stairs, the cold moonlight caught the corner of his eye. He pushed the door to his right slowly open, only for it to reveal that it was a bedroom. The room was cosy containing only a small bed, desk and a wardrobe, however it had character; a small pot of bright red roses sat on the windowsill and an array of different papers were messily strewn across the desk opposite the bed.

Enjolras wandered over to the desk to examine the messy papers. They were notes from the meetings! The sheets of paper were filled with different bullet points of ideas and annotations from the Les Amis meetings. Realisation dawned on Enjolras like the rising sun in the morning: this was Esmeralda's room. He shifted through the various papers; reading, memorising the messy characters and words on the lines of the sheets. He looked for clues, for signs that she was going to leave, but nothing. He found nothing that would've indicated her reluctance, her doubt in their plans for the revolution. She was thorough, passionate and intelligent in her writings, it frustrated him greatly.

Had she… really abandoned them?

Did she realize with the revolution at their fingertips that it was something that she should've never involved herself with?

Did she regret meeting them?

Did she regret meeting him?

"Enjolras."

His head jerked up to meet the eyes of Combeferre, who's anxious expression was worn clearly on his handsome face.

"I do hope you're not thinking what I believe you're thinking." Combeferre strolled into the small bedroom, taking in his surroundings as he stepped closer to Enjolras.

"And what is it that I'm thinking?" Enjolras replied, without even glancing in Combeferre's direction as he asked.

Combeferre exhaled loudly, finally causing Enjolras to look up at him stoically.

"You're probably thinking about Esmeralda and how she's left us in a time when we need her most." The bed Enjolras shifted and squeaked under Combeferre's weight as he lowered himself down to sit next to Enjolras. "Am I wrong?"

Enjolras refused to answer, giving his silence as a solemn response.

"Look, Enjolras. Think about it clearly for a second." Combeferre shifted, so that he was directly facing Enjolras, who's eyes were still trained on the floor and a permanent frown was marring his perfect lips. "You and I both know Esmeralda-"

"Yes, well obviously we didn't know her well enough like we thought we did." Enjolras' clear cut-throat tone sliced its way through Combeferre's words.

"Have the last two months meant nothing to you, Enjolras?!" Combeferre's frustration was building inside himself like he was a volcano waiting to explode. "Esmeralda is one of the most loyal people we have ever met in our entire lives, she was one of the most dedicated members of the Les Amis. Do you really think she'd willingly up and leave like she has?"

Enjolras rose to his steady feet, turning away from Combeferre. He was being foolish, yes of course he was, because that was what emotions like… like love did to a person. Was he truly in love with Esmeralda? He had never experienced love between him and another person so romantically, so intimately before; he didn't know what it was supposed to feel like. He always believed love made a man weak, so was that the reason he was so distraught?

He was foolish to think that his heart could have two different goals at the same time. What on earth was he thinking? Before Esmeralda had even entered the picture, his heart was solely dedicated to Patria. He regarded all women the same and gave each of them enough respect as long as they didn't overstep their boundaries with him, but for a reason that only the gods seem to know why, Enjolras had let Esmeralda in. Esmeralda, a woman who defied the unspoken laws of their delicate society and had practically jumped over each of Enjolras' boundaries, making him flustered beyond belief and impressed at the same time. She was the woman that argued with him in the middle of an overcrowded square over his refusal of her request to attend a Les Amis meeting. She was also the women who would walk into a room like she owned it as well as every single person who was within that room. She had boldly walked through the halls of their university, discussing dangerous and such controversial subjects that would send the normal man running for the hills. Maybe he did know the reason why he had let her in, and perhaps he was just too scared to admit it.

Combeferre's deep exhale of irritation seemed to knock him out his trance as the young doctor paced in front of him.

"There will be a reason for why she has disappeared so mysteriously, Enjolras." Combeferre's voice was quiet and calming, like a flowing stream down a brook. "You and I both know that she wouldn't just up and leave without telling us willingly."

"Maybe the fact she left was a good thing." Enjolras slowly raised his head, turning to face a confused Combeferre who's brows were furrowed, and his mouth pulled into a frown. "The revolution is this close and yet here I was being distracted by such a trivial thing-"

"What, and that trivial thing is love?" Combeferre exclaimed angrily.

How Enjolras was so dense to his own feelings was beyond Combeferre's knowledge. The man's mind was brilliant, he was leading their revolution after all. The ideas, prospects and possibilities he managed to form in that mind of his was astonishing to any man his age. Yet a man so smart was so dense when it came to the smallest things like love and affection.

The two revolutionaries stared at each other with bated breathes, waiting for each other's next words. It had seemed that Combeferre's outburst had struck a chord with Enjolras. A chord that Enjolras had hoped would never be played, yet here was Combeferre strumming it like a guitar.

"Honestly for a man of such high calibre and brains, you sure are bloody ignorant to what your heart tells you." Enjolras' fists clenched subconsciously at Combeferre's satirical words. "Or maybe it's that you are listening to your heart, but only part of it, because I'm quite positive everybody knows that Patria is who treasure in your heart the most, isn't she? Or maybe that's what you want us to think, maybe you want to hide the fact you're so bloody off your knockers for a woman that has managed to not only render you speechless but has also managed to match you in intellect!

Look mon ami, you must realize that a heart has enough capacity for a million people if you want it to be. Esmeralda has never been a distraction or an interference, but the driving force for all of us. She's the trigger to the gun that we all hold; the fire to the oil that we've planted! You and her… God I'm going to sound like a right pansy but to hell with it, you and Esmeralda are so perfect for each other it's frightening."

Enjolras still remained stoically silent as he listened to Combeferre's words of wisdom. With a heavy sigh, Combeferre decided to give up on the subject for now, thinking that'd it would be better for both of them that Enjolras stirred in his own thoughts for a while.

"We should go, Enjolras." Combeferre placed a comforting hand on Enjolras shoulder. "There's still some things we must prepare for tomorrow's event."

Of course. Tomorrow was General Lamarque's funeral parade. The stage at which they would create their revolution by rising up the barricades in the streets of Paris. Enjolras had almost forgotten completely about it in the last half hour, with Esmeralda's disappearance the main event of the hour.

The pair of them walked back to the Café in silence, each of them pondering in their own thoughts; Combeferre's mostly consisting of how Enjolras was coping for now. The shower from earlier had left small puddles across the cobblestone streets, letting the light from the windows to bounce off their glass surface, creating a mosaic of light patterns across the wet streets.

Enjolras shouldn't, no couldn't let Esmeralda's absence deter him from their great cause. Now was not the time for him to cry over his lonely soul, it was time for the revolution, for the republic and all the people that it would hold in it's safe embrace.

It was time for the rebellion.

* * *

The carriage rattled noisily along the cobble road as the two passengers inside were jostled on their soft seats. Throughout the whole ride so far Esmeralda had been solemnly staring out the window, not even making a glance to her Papa. She could almost taste the bitterness she held towards her father on the tip of her tongue increase as they slowly made their way through the streets of Paris, away from Café Musain; away from Enjolras, from the Les Amis.

Esmeralda was jolted out of her inner trance as the carriage seemed to come harshly to a halt, causing the occupants to sway slightly with the momentum. They were no where near their apartment however, they hadn't even left the centre of Paris. Why on earth had they come to a stop?

"Esmeralda, wait here patiently for me, I shall only be a few minutes." Her Papa's explanation was curt and precise, leaving no time for Esmeralda to question him he jumped out of the carriage and into the building they had pulled up in front of them.

When her Papa had finally disappeared into the building, Esmeralda observed the street around her from the window of her carriage. The street was quite familiar, she recalled how one time she had strolled down it while discussing the importance of Greek Democracy to Enjolras, of _all_ things of course they talked about that. She was only about a kilometre away from the café if she guessed correctly, she probably could've run back to Musain in time for the last minutes of the meeting.

A lightbulb in her head went off.

Why didn't she just run back?

Was she willing to sacrifice her life at the barricades for the good of the nation? She believed she did.

It was like everything happened at once; the idea had popped into her head and her body was already in action. She rifled through her father's carrier bag in search for a decent amount of money, finally coming upon a tiny purse full of sous and francs. Quickly stuffing it in the bodice of her dress, she emptied out all the heavy items she had packed with her in her own carrier bag onto the floor of the carriage with haste, taking a few seconds to grab a few of her own father's clothes before resealing her bag. Her time was running short, for her Papa would be out the front door and coming back down to the carriage any minute now, it was now or never for her to escape.

She slowly creaked the door on her side of the carriage open, being wary of the fact the carriage driver was merely on the other side waiting for her father to return. She lowered herself down to the ground and out of the carriage as slow as possible, not willing to take the risk of rocking the carriage if she had leapt out. She glanced up at the carriage driver's seat, making sure he was facing the other way before slowly tip-toeing away from the carriage till she was a good distance away from it for her footsteps not to be noticed when she picked up speed. Once she was about 15 metres from the carriage she burst into a full run down the cobblestone lane, letting her longs legs carry her as fast as possible. She weaved between houses and in-between alleyways to make sure no one had been following her. She didn't drop her speed till she was a good distance away from where the carriage had stopped, and slowed into a quick jog. She felt the sweat start to form on her brow as she panted heavily into the night as she rounded different corners of the Paris streets, making her way back into the more central part of Paris.

She kept a safe distance from any drunkards that wondered the midnight streets, but at the same time keeping an ear out for Grantaire's usual slur in case he was among them. She finally arrived back at her cottage and ran up to the part in the iron gate where she had lodged her letter.

It was gone to Esmeralda's delight and dismay, meaning either one of the Les Amis boys had it within their possession or a gamine had suddenly become a lot wealthier. Esmeralda reached into her bag and counted out the amount of money she had shamelessly stolen from her father, it was enough for her to stay in an inn for the night. She couldn't risk staying here, in her home, where it was probably the mostly likely of places her father would first look when he realised she was missing. She quickly ran inside of her house as she remembered how her father had forgotten to lock it in his rush to leave the place. She took a quick glance at the grandfather clock to see what time it was, 12 o'clock in the morning? The Les Amis meeting would be definitely over by now, so that was one of her options smothered out. Leaving the house, she closed the door with a bang and set off into the night with looking for an inn that would be her home for the night.


	9. Do You Hear The People Sing?

**AN: Hi everyone, I didn't realize I had posted the same chapter twice! Here's the actual chapter for everyone and I'd like to thank reviewer Eponine S Daae for letting me know otherwise I would've never known lol. Also If you guys ever reread chapter 5 again I added in an extra paragraph that I felt was needed about half way through where Esmeralda ponders on the likeliness of Enjolras to Mr Darcy.**

Esmeralda woke the next morning to loud shouts from the street below her room's window, the one she had managed to come upon the night before. She peered curiously down into the street, watching multiples of people scurry around each other, all heading in the same direction towards the main square where the Elephant de la Bastille stood proudly.

Esmeralda hurried to throw her fathers clothes on, however extremely large she used one of the sling ropes from her bag as a belt to hold up the trousers on her waist as she folded the lengths of the trousers to her ankles. The large coat was big enough to cover her torso generously, letting her forgo the time-consuming task of bandaging up her chest. Tucking her trouser into her leather lace-up boots, she realized one thing.

She had no hat.

No hat meant that her whole disguise would go to failure, as it was her face and her hair that gave her appearance away immediately. With an irritated sigh she tied her hair up into a messy bun at the back of her head, letting small black ringlets of curls frame the sides of her face.

She grabbed all her belongings and soon rushed out of the room and down the inn's stairs. She kept her head down and avoided all sort of eye contact as she rushed out the door and into the busy street. An explosion of chatter sounded around her as she found herself amongst the busiest of Parisians as they all pushed their way forward to the main roads.

As much as her curiosity told her to go investigate the commotion to her left, the need of a hat came first in her perspective. She didn't want to miss all the commotion on the end of the street, yet at the same time she couldn't spot any kind of store that sold any type of hats, it wasn't till her eyes caught on multiple small figures that were adorned by just the type of hat she wanted on the other side of the street from her.

With determination gleaming in her eyes she marched over to the young group of boys, no older than thirteen or so, who had taken no notice to her until she was standing right in front of them. The one in the middle gave her an odd look, as if to say, "What do you want?", with a raise of his eyebrow.

"How much for the hat?" Esmeralda asked seriously.

The boys around her gave her an incredulous look, before the one she had asked finally replied.

"Not for sale." He replied haughtily.

With an irritated sigh she dug through her bag and retrieved several sous and a franc out and held them out in front of the boy. It didn't take much persuading from then on for her to acquire the hat.

Tucking the last strands of her hair into the hat she had newly acquired, she rushed to the main square and stood among the throngs of people that lined up against the road, as if they were waiting for something. She quickly tapped the shoulder of a man next to her, her curiosity one-upping her patience.

"Excuse me monsieur, do you mind telling me what's happening?"

The man seemed to raise his eyebrows at her question before responding.

"Didn't you hear lad? General Lamarque passed last night! This is his funeral march," explained the monsieur.

The crowd around her seemed to mute itself as the weight of the words finally set into her stomach, her mind. She felt the cold sweat form on her brow as she recalled how the boys said they were simply waiting for a sigh, for the spark to set off the canon that was the revolution… and General Lamarque's death was their answer.

Today.

Today was the uprising.

Today was the day of the revolution.

Esmeralda's legs almost buckled from beneath her as the reality set in. That it was about to happen any moment now, and that all her boys were merely waiting for the right moment to strike.

She pushed her way to the front of the crowd, her mind to anxious about the well-beings of the boys she had come to know in the past two months. Who knew it only took two months to form multiple new relationships, beautiful friendships; who knew it only took two months to fall in love. Esmeralda finally reached the front of the crowd as she stood on the edge of the pathway before the road in front of her. Down the road, Esmeralda could just make out the bright red coats of the beginning of the parade as it slowly made its way down the street. Her eyes darted about up and down the street, trying to spot the familiar faces of anyone from the Les Amis.

A flash of vibrant red caught her eye and to her immense happiness, there stood lion-hearted Enjolras on the other side of the street about fifteen metres away from her, in all his gold and red glory. It had only been two days since Esmeralda had last seen him, but it had felt like two years for her. Seeing his fresh face amongst the grimy solemn crowd lifted her delicate spirit, and soon she was able to spot more of the Les Amis members on both her side of the street as well as the other side.

Esmeralda kept her head down, and spectated the scenery before her from under the brim of her hat. The sounds of beating drums was slowly increasing as the parade made its way towards them. The air was still and the crowd quiet behind her as the first of the soldiers marched past her on their brunette steeds, with the sound of the beating drums echoing around them like the strong thrum of a heart.

The thrum of the Republic.

 _"Do you hear the people sing?  
Singing the song of angry men?  
It is the music of the people  
Who will _not _be slaves again!  
When the beating of your heart  
Echoes the beating of the drums  
There is a life about to start  
When tomorrow comes!"_

Esmeralda's luscious green orbs were trained solely on Enjolras as he stared stoically forwards while singing along with the rest of the crowd in their growing defiance. Her heart pounded thunderously in her ribcage as the adrenaline raced around her body, as it readied itself for the next move.

 _"Will you join in our crusade?  
Who will be strong and stand with me?  
Beyond the barricade  
Is there a world you long to see?"_

She felt her own breath hitch in throat as her heart skipped a beat in her chest as she watched Enjolras give a firm nod to Marius, who stood opposite him, before rushing out into the middle of the parade with a fire in his eyes more powerful than the sun, waving a blood red flag in the air with all his might.

 _"Then join in the fight  
That will give you the right to be free!"_

He was beautiful.

 _"Do you hear the people sing?  
Singing the song of angry men?  
It is the music of the people  
Who will _not _be slaves again!  
When the beating of your heart  
Echoes the beating of the drums  
There is a life about to start  
When tomorrow comes!"_

By now each of the Les Amis had managed to climb on top of the parade carriage, singing their mighty hearts out as they waved flags of vibrant red, white and blue as the guards and officers panicked on what to do. More and more citizens broke from their neat spots on the side-lines and had become more dispersed as they ventured into the middle of the street, shouting and singing cheers of the Republic.

It was the most magnificent and spectacular moments Esmeralda had ever witnessed in her entire life.

 _"Will you give all you can give  
So that our banner may advance  
Some will fall, and some will live  
Will you stand up and take your chance?  
The blood of the martyrs  
Will water the meadows of France!"_

There wasn't a moment Esmeralda could recall where she was prouder of being part of the Les Amis more than now. She reached into her bag hastily and drew out her tricolour rosette and pinned it proudly to the lapel of her father's oversized jacket. Without realising it, her feet were carrying her slender body forwards, pushing herself through the crowds of cheering civilians till she reached the carriage that the boys stood proudly on top of, keeping her head down, but still mouthing the words of the people's song along with them.

 _"Do you hear the people sing?  
Singing the songs of angry men?  
It is the music of the people  
Who will _not _be slaves again!  
When the beating of your heart  
Echoes the beating of the drums  
There is a life about to start  
When tomorrow comes!"_

Silence flooded the thick air as the people finished their song with a cry and a cheer. Esmeralda gazed up at Enjolras who stood up on a pedestal above her, panting heavily as he held the red flag tightly in the palms of his hand as he gazed across the throngs of people who had merged together during the song.

Esmeralda felt the hair on her neck rise as she spotted the ensemble of red coated guards who had drawn their scabbards and were lining up uniformly in front of them. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest again as she held on to the carriage in a vice-like grip with one hand and she slowly reached into her bag with the other, drawing out her own weapon, one of the tiniest revolvers known to man. Before she had left the house, she had once again rifled through her father's belongings, the ones he had left behind and had come upon the small revolver gun she now had pointed towards an officer's chest. Although her grip was slightly shaky, she knew she wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through one of those officers if they threatened the lives of someone she cared for.

In all the commotion, more pieces of Esmeralda's hair had fallen from her hat making her disguise less inconspicuous that it should have been, but it mattered not when she had multiple guards pointing rifles and scabbards at her and her comrades.

A sudden shot rang through the still air and screams of terror and pain rose up into the sky as an elderly woman fell to the ground in a heap. Shouts of the word murderer echoed through the atmosphere as Esmeralda rushed over to the collapsed elderly woman as bystanders cradled her frail body in their arms. The crowd was in uproar as people pushed and shoved against each other towards the guards.

Esmeralda kneeled on the grimy cobblestone floor as she reached towards the old woman, pushing past the other bodies in order to get to her. To Esmeralda's surprise and luck, she locked eyes with Combeferre, who was also tending to the woman with his gentle care, but before either of them could say a word to each other Esmeralda was suddenly hauled upwards by the collar of her jacket as she was thrown roughly to the ground by a guard.

More shots were fired around her, bullets whizzing past her ears as she scrambled to her feet again, away from the carriages and towards the rest of the crowd. She cried out in horror as she watched Courfeyrac get tackled to the ground a few feet away from her, but soon he was up and running again from the help of a stranger wearing blue.

"CHARGE!"

The order rang in Esmeralda's ears as she spun on her feet to see five soldiers on their steeds charge directly towards her. One of them had his sword raised as he came barrelling down the road to her. Her heart thrummed in her chest and her hands shook with fear as she tried to hold her revolver steady aiming for the charging man's chest.

But she couldn't take the shot.

She squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for the cold impact of death, but instead shot rang out in the air, causing her eyes to snap open to see the guard who had been charging at her fall unceremoniously from his saddle to the ground with a sickening thud as his steed kept cantering forwards without him. Esmeralda's body swivelled round to wear the shot had rung out from to be greeted with the spectacular sight of Enjolras lowering his gun as he shouted orders to those around him.

"To the barricades!"

Esmeralda felt her heart constrict painfully as she watched Enjolras climb onto a horse and gallop towards the direction of their beloved café. He was leaving her too quickly, she wasn't prepared to say goodbye yet. She felt the panic set in her chest as the whole crowd dispersed into different streets as an increasing number of guards arrived at the scene. There were too many people, too many bodies to get through to make her way towards the street for the café.

Cursing under her breathe, she burst into a sprint down the nearest street, weaving in and out of the numerous running bodies. She ducked into the alleys and finally found herself in the street next door to the one that lead to the café. She carefully evaded all the furniture being thrown out of windows all around her as men she didn't recognize picked each of the pieces up and threw them together in one massive pile, creating a barricade as fast as possible.

She was so close to her boys, just one street away.

"We need more hands!"

The shout made her pause.

Esmeralda felt an inner dilemma swarm in her mind.

Did she stay to help these people build their own barricade before the officers showed up? Or does she run now and hope she can still make it in time to see the Les Amis. If she stayed now, she might not even be able to make it out of this barricade alive to see her boys one last time, but if she left now these people might not even live to see the end of their own barricade.

She always hated a guilty conscious.

Her body sprang into action, hauling nearby broken chairs towards the heap in the middle of the street as the barricade slowly built up and up towards the sky. More furniture landed around her as she grabbed everything she could find to help build an indestructible barrier, ignoring the wooden splinters that pierced her fingertips as she pulled half of a dressing table to the top of the barricade.

Shots whizzed past her ears as her head jerked up to see a group of soldiers about one hundred metres away, marching towards them. Esmeralda stood still for too long because before she knew it her upper-arm felt like it had been engulfed by flames. The impact of the bullet sent her tumbling down the barricade and soon enough she was being hauled to her feet by helpful hands and into the nearest building.

So much shock and adrenaline pumped through her body it was overwhelming and darkness consumed Esmeralda before she could even utter a word.


	10. I Love You, Most Ardently

**AN: Since I made the stupid mistake of updating with the same chapter I thought I'd treat u guys to another one.**

The Les Amis defended their base furiously, knocking back any soldier that tried to climb the barricade as shots whizzed a hair length past their ears as they fought. Night had fallen and only the burning wooden torches to provided light to help distinguish friend from foe.

Shots kept ringing in Enjolras' ears as he could only hope they had missed their target as he punched a man in the gut with their own rifle before shoving them back down the barricade. His mind panicked as he watched more soldiers try and climb their way over the barricade.

"Fall back!"

Enjolras jerked his head up to the top of the mound of the barricade, his eyes landing on Marius with a barrel of oil and a flaming wooden torch in both hands.

"Fall back or I blow the barricade!"

Enjolras approached Marius carefully, if Marius blew the barricade he'd kill all of them, including the guards. Silence fell on both sides of the barricades as they realised the commotion, the only sound Enjolras could hear was the beating thrum of his heart in his chest as he watched Marius' interaction with the soldier with careful eyes.

"Blow it up and take yourself with it!" The soldier replied.

Everyone watched on in muted horror as Marius slowly lowered the flaming torch to the barrel.

"And myself with it."

Just as the licks of flame were about to contact the oil, the soldier realised how Marius would hold true to his word.

"BACK!" The soldier screamed.

The other guards hearing the order retreated with quick steps out of the of street, the rest of them climbing down from the barricade with haste.

Enjolras released his breath that he didn't even realise he was holding and climbed up to Marius, taking the flaming torch from the man's hand with haste before stumbling back down the barricade. His heart thundered in his chest loudly as he panted from holding his breathe for too long. In the moment where Marius had almost doomed them all to death he had realised something:

He was afraid to die.

Not once before the barricades had risen did he think he'd be afraid of death, because that death was given for the sake of his country; when he had dedicated his life to the improvement of France he had believed he had already accepted the possibility of death by the barrel of a gun, so why was it now that he suddenly cared whether he lived or died?

He could hear the muffled shouts of Combeferre and some other members as they made a point to Marius that their lives weren't his to throw away. He leaned heavily against the wall as his mind sought out the reason for his sudden fear of death's cold embrace. His eyes closed in thought, but he was only greeted with a pair of meadow green eyes staring back at him.

Was _she_ the answer?

Was Esmeralda the reason he wanted to survive this war, survive this rebellion and not throw his life away for France? The image of her beautiful face was still fresh in his mind, as if he had only seen it hours ago. He could remember the exact rosiness of her cheeks and the shade of her favourite lipstick she only wore on special days; he recalled the way she'd bicker and constantly argue with him over the tiniest of things; he recalled the way her eyes would light up whenever she saw him- them, the Les Amis.

He missed the way Esmeralda would shamelessly wrap her arm around his waist when she had one too many drinks at a meeting.

He missed the way she laughed without restraint, as if she didn't have the heaviest burden resting on her shoulders.

He missed the way she would always calm them down after an argument erupted within the group, claiming for peace as she rested her hands on their rigid shoulders.

He _missed_ her.

So perhaps she _was_ the reason for his new desire to survive, what would he do with it? Because for all he knew she could've been on a boat halfway across the channel towards England now, miles away from them; away from him.

"Enjolras!"

His body jerked him out of the spell he was under, as he casted his eyes towards the doorway where Combeferre stood, an expression of panic masking his face.

"Come, it's Éponine." Enjolras' brows furrowed.

"Éponine? What on earth is she doing here?" He pushed himself off from his post on the wall and jogged back to the barricade where his eyes rested on Marius cradling an injured Éponine, dressed in men's clothes, holding onto her life by strands of a thread.

Enjolras lowered himself to the ground on one knee in front of the pair. He locked eyes with Éponine, who gave a sad smile before reaching into the inside of her jacket and pulled out a letter, holding it meekly in front of him. He took the damp letter hesitantly and noticed that his own name was scrawled messily on the front before looking back up at Éponine.

"I kept it… from all of you." Her breath was laboured as she rested peacefully in Marius' arms. "It's from Esmeralda."

Combeferre looked between Marius and Éponine, sensing the pair needed their time alone he tapped Enjolras on the shoulder and motioned him to come back into the café. He watched Enjolras settle on a wooden chair that looked as if it was about to give way any minute and simply stare at the letter he held in his hands.

"What are you doing? Open the bloody thing, Éponine said it was from Esmeralda." Combeferre strolled towards the doorway. "I'll leave you alone if it helps."

Enjolras watched Combeferre stroll back outside to help tend to their wounded from the latest battle. Enjolras' eyes casted downwards to the letter he held in front of him, he felt a smirk tug at the edge of his lips as he saw the scruffy scrawl of Esmeralda's handwriting. She was always a messy writer.

He opened the letter with shaky hands and began to read the messy ink.

 _Dear Monsieur Apollo,_

 _I do not have much time, only a few minutes, so I shall make this quick and simple for you, Enjolras._

 _My father has a very dangerous and secretive past that has caused the both of us to run from it for the majority of my life and my dear Papa has only just told me it was time to move on again, immediately. However, this time I'm not ready to move on, I don't want to move on. No. 25 on Rue de l'Homme armé is the apartment my father is taking me to tonight, and then within the next week he wants to make passage to England, but I don't want to go to England - call me childish all you want, but I finally belong somewhere._

 _Knowing you my next words will only be making you gag, but I implore you to endure it._

Enjolras let out a small scoff as he read her words.

 _I always wanted to be a part of something. I wanted to be a part of anything, a group or maybe even an act. I never fitted in with the rest of the bourgeois girls, they fawned over men and talked about which parasol was in the latest fashion too much and it simply wasn't where I belonged. It must've been a sign from the bloody Gods that you and I fell over each other on that day, for I thank the Lord that I'm not sure I even believe in, that I met you. You gave me a place where I was welcomed, where I felt at home and even though that home was a room in the back of café with a group of dashing young rebel men, it was still home._

 _I idolized you. Yes, a bit over exaggerated but I did! You were the fire that managed to set my heart aflame, in more than one way. I'm not sure I will ever get the pleasure of arguing with you, or seeing you again, but I'm making a promise to myself that I shall fight tooth and nail back to you, back to Les Amis. Tell the boys I love them for me, Andre._

 _Also, was it too greedy of a thought to think that someday I'd be the moon to your sun? I do hope not._

 _I'm sorry my confession is through a letter, I would've loved to see your reaction._

Enjolras gulped nervously as his eyes trailed her next words.

 _I love you, most ardently._

 _Your dearest,  
Esmeralda x_

His fingers softly traced the lipstick kiss Esmeralda had planted next to her name.

She had loved him- no she _loves_ him.

His head bowed as his mind swarmed with thoughts like bees around a honey hive of Esmeralda.

What was he to do with himself?

He read over the letter two times, 3 times more. What was he to do now with the information that she loved him? Just as he was about to throw the envelope away, the jingling of metal stopped him. How he had not noticed the first time? He had no clue. His fingers slowly pulled out a gold chained necklace with a diamond moon charm attached onto it.

Esmeralda's necklace.

Enjolras couldn't recall a time where Esmeralda had _not_ been wearing this necklace. It was adorned on her neck always, glistening in the sunlight as she walked down the streets or glowing in the candlelight of their Les Amis meetings. Was he that important to her for her to give him one of her most prized possessions for his keeping? He didn't deserve her love at all. He was a man who had dragged his _friends_ closer to their own demise. They were all so young, all in their twenties and they had promised to fight to the death with him. What kind man does that to his _friends_?

Combeferre's harsh, yet wise words from yesterday were suddenly brought to the forefront of his mind. Maybe for once he should do what his heart wants him to do, and ignore his nagging brain for once.

She had written down her address, he remembered.

An idea popped into his mind like a shot going off.

He rummaged through the draws to find their usual storage of papers, ink pots and pens. For the first time in Enjolras' life he wrote with his heart, and he poured his fears and his worries out onto the paper for Esmeralda. He finally decided to stop ignoring the obvious and chose to acknowledge his blatant feelings for Esmeralda, whether he decided if he was a man worth of loving a woman like her was to be done later, but for now at least he no longer ignored it. He seared his passion into the ink of his pen, for if he should die, she deserved to know how much she meant to him, to all of them.

* * *

Valjean paced back and forth in his apartment, anxiety and panic consuming his mind. Esmeralda had pulled another disappearance, only this time he couldn't find her. She had stolen his clothes, some of his money and had ran. He should've expected it from her, knowing how much of a flight risk she was. He had searched in all the places where he could find her today: their old cottage, the university and the different parks. The night had grown late, and he was forced to return to his apartment without any sign of where Esmeralda could be. He had been there when the uproar had started in Place de la Bastille during the funeral parade for General Lamarque. He could only pray that Esmeralda was not among the crowd.

A sudden knock on his door knocked him out of his reverie.

He rushed to the door, unlocking it as quick as possible in hope that it was Esmeralda, but he was only met with disappointment as his eyes only took upon the peculiar sight of a young boy, no older than 10, at his front door, with his arm outstretched in front of him, holding a letter.

"Letter from the barricade in Rue de Villette." The young boy said proudly.

Valjean's brows furrowed.

"The barricade?" He whispered to himself. "I'll take it."

Just as he reached for the letter though, the boy pulled it back and outstretched his other hand and nodded to it. Understanding the gesture, Valjean reached into his pockets and took out a few sous for the boy and then retrieved the letter.

"Something for me, something for you." With that said, the young boy treaded down the stairs.

"Boy." Called out Valjean. "You stay away from those barricades, you understand?"

The boy paused to look at Valjean, before giving a nod of acknowledgment and continued his way down the stairs.

With one last look at the boy, Valjean noticed the neat refined scrawl of ink that wrote the name Esmeralda on the front. A letter for his daughter? He promptly ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter to read the contents.

 _"Dear Esmeralda, you've left your mark on my heart  
And soon you will be gone  
Can it be only two months since we met  
And my world and mind has been changed?  
If I should fall in the battle to come  
Let this be my goodbye  
Now that I know you loved-"_

Valjean's breath hitched and his brows furrowed in an incredulous manner as he read the next words.

 _"-loved me like a fool  
It is harder to die...  
I now regret not telling you  
I also loved you  
Pray for your Enjolras, he prays for you…"_

Valjean squeezed his eyes shut and raised his head towards the ceiling. He felt his heart constrict painfully as he let the words of the letter sink into the pit of his mind.

"Mon Dieu…" he whispered.

 _"This is the day I most feared  
For a young man has appeared to change my life  
This Enjolras would take the treasure of my autumn days  
To be his wife  
But he could die  
Tonight…"_

He shook his head and retreated back into his apartment, grabbing the nearest coat he could find before fleeing out of the doorway.

"I must find this boy."

* * *

Half an hour later Valjean was wrestling to get a guard's uniform off their unconscious body to wear as a disguise. He slipped the large tail coat and hat and walked through the streets till he reached a barricade situated in front of the Café Musain. As he neared the barricade he pulled the hat off his head and emerged from the alley, keeping close to the wall.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" He whispered urgently as a multiple number of guns pointed at him from the other side of the barricade. "I come here as a volunteer."

He watched one man dressed in a blood red coat with a head adorned with golden curls turn back to his comrades and give them a nod. Valjean sighed with relief as a wagon was pulled back from the barricade to make room for him to pass through.

"Merci."

But Valjean had spoken to soon, for as soon as he entered he was surrounded by a circle of pistols pointed at his head and the golden-haired boy had seized his rifle from his hands.

" _You see that prisoner over there_?" one man asked, his face long and his hair clipped shorter than the rest of the boys.

" _A volunteer like you_." Another man said sneeringly, his dark curls framing his pale face as he grabbed Valjean's arm.

Valjean casted his eyes to the direction they had nodded their heads in and the air rush out of his lungs in an instant. There was Javert, the man who he had been running all his life from with his hands bound by rope and his neck tied in a noose as he kneeled on the dusty floor.

" _Spy who calls himself Javert_."

" _He's gonna get it too_."

"Don't kill 'im! I know 'im!"

The small voice of a child exclaimed through all the other talk. Valjean looked down to see the sight of the child who had delivered the letter for Esmeralda to him. So, the boy who was named Enjolras was definitely among these men, he realized.

A blur of movement suddenly caught his eye, and he casted his squinted gaze to the roofs. Up there was a soldier, already taking aim with his rifle!

"Enemy marksman!" Valjean screamed, grabbing his rifle back at the same time and took the shot.

The rest of the young men had noticed more soldiers slinking around the roof tops like cats in the night and delivered their shots as loud bangs rang through the warm summer's night, all while screaming and shouting to alert anybody else.

When they had finally taken out the last of the ones they could see, the young men were still watching, their eyes alert for any kind of movement in case of a hiding enemy.

"Thank you, monsieur." The golden-haired leader of the group came forwards to thank Valjean personally, his voice deep with appreciation.

" _Give me no thanks, monsieur_." Valjean's eyes held a deadly serious gleam to them as he turned back to Javert. " _There's something you can do_."

" _If it is within my power…"_ The leader replied.

" _Give me the spy Javert."_ Valjean gestured to the pistol on the man's waist. " _Let me take care of him."_

" _Do what you have to do, the man belongs to you."_ The leader handed him a thin ornate dagger along with his pistol, which Valjean took carefully in his hands.

Combeferre, who had been watching the exchange between the two men, widened his eyes in panic.

"No!" he whispered furiously, "Enjolras, this isn't right!"

Enjolras' only reply was his silence as he closed the door behind himself and left the man to do his deed.

After all, Enjolras was a brilliant man, capable of being terrible.


	11. Drink With Me

Esmeralda woke with a startle, her eyes snapping open to see an unfamiliar ceiling, as she laid in an unfamiliar bed. She tried pushing herself up from the mattress, but was only greeted with a searing pain running up and down the left side of her arm. She hissed as she cradled her upper-arm and inspected the bloody bandages that were tied around her wound.

Her head jerked up to the sound of her door swinging open to see a rather young man walk through.

"Oh good, you're finally awake," he said softly.

Her eyes roamed the man's appearance. His white shirt was tucked neatly into his dress pants while the sleeves were neatly rolled upwards past his elbows. He adorned a pair of rectangular glasses on his face, that finished off his intelligent aura he presented in front of her.

"I'm William, I study medicine at the nearby university, so I'm the assigned medic here," he explained, slowly walking over to the empty chair that sat next to Esmeralda's bed. "I'm just here to change your bandages."

"Does that mean you know Combeferre and Joly?" Esmeralda asked eagerly.

The man looked at her through the black strands of his hair as his head was bent and focused on unwrapping her arm.

"…You know those two?" He resumed the work he had momentarily paused, cleaning the blood from her arm with care to not hurt her.

"They're my dear friends," Esmeralda explained, with a far off look in her eye. "Please, you must tell me if they're in the next barricade over."

"And what are you going to do with that information?" It was a rhetorical question, Esmeralda could tell by the sarcastic drawl in his tone. "Leave to find them and get yourself kill along the way?"

"If that's what it takes for me to see them again."

Her deep green orbs made contact with William's. His eyes were a startling shade of royal blue, they were definitely striking, but they didn't hold a candle to Enjolras' eyes in Esmeralda's opinion.

"My, my, aren't you a gutsy mademoiselle." His tone of mocking, as if he was making fun of her, but his hands cleaned the wound on her arm with a gentleness that his voice lacked.

"One must be gutsy in times like these, monsieur," she said softly, her eyes not leaving the man in front of her.

William sighed tiredly, turning back to his work to wipe the final bits of dried blood off her skin.

"Too much confidence will only lead to one's own demise in the end," he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his straight nose, "You should be careful when making use of it."

"You make it sound like it's something you can switch on and off," Esmeralda replied, watching the man wrap a clean bandage around her slender arm.

"It's a hard art to master, controlling your emotions." His hands were nimble as they tied a firm knot in the bandage. "But thankfully I've had my whole life to master it, so one could say I'm a genius."

He didn't elaborate further on his last comment before standing up from the small chair, walking towards the door with slow and careful steps. Esmeralda watched his broad back as he got further away from her, his last words had only confused her mind – making her think long and hard about what he had said.

"Your name."

His voice jerked her out of her deep thoughts.

"What?"

"Your name," he repeated, turning back to her slightly as he held the door open for himself. "You didn't tell me it."

She opened her mouth and paused for a second to meet the man's eyes, "Esmerelda," she answered softly.

Her emerald eyes caught his once more as he nodded at her answer, a small smile gracing his lips.

"I'll find out for you… the location of your 'friends'."

Before she could even utter the words 'thank you', he had shut the door behind him, leaving her to swim in her own thoughts in loneliness.

She gazed through the windows and into the street below, watching William emerge from the building to tend to other wounded from earlier today. The night had arrived with it's darkness in tow, the glow from the flaming torches and candles providing the only light source for the young men that lounged around the barricades with pistols in hand. Esmeralda wondered what the Les Amis were doing now, if they were okay, how many lives they had lost. Thinking about it seemed to only make her more anxious then she already was, so she decided to sleep for now and find them in the morning.

* * *

Enjolras and the rest of the men's head jerked up at the sound of a gunshot ringing into the night; the volunteer had killed the spy. His eyes caught the shake of disapproval from Combeferre as he bandaged someone's injured arm. The night was growing old as the men around him lounged in their spots on the barricade, some eating what food was left, others polishing their weapons for the fights to come. He watched the volunteer emerge back out from the building and give a slight nod to him, which he replied with as well. Something about that man was oddly familiar, yet his mind couldn't seem to put a name to a face for him as of yet.

 _"Courfeyrac, you take the watch."_ Enjolras looked down at the man, sitting below him on the barricade, _"They may attack before it's light. Everybody keep the faith, for certain as our banner flies. We are not alone; the people too must rise."_

Enjolras' piercing blue eyes spied Marius, still working away on the other side of the barricade by throwing what furniture or barrels they had left on to it.

"Marius, rest," he said softly to the man.

Marius paused in this work before hesitantly setting down the wooden chair he had in his hands. Enjolras knew his comrade was grieving the death of Éponine from earlier in the evening, so Marius had decided to absorb himself in the work, to help take his mind of it.

 _"Drink with me to days gone by…"_ Grantaire's soft mellow voice echoed through the cool air.

Everyone's faces lit up slightly as a large bottle of wine was passed round, filling the air with a jovial mood. Enjolras crossed the street and entered the opening room of the café, the voices of his comrades growing quieter as he walked away.

 _"To the life (to the life) that used (that used) to be (to be)  
At the shrine of friendship, never say die  
Let the wine of friendship never run dry  
Here's to you and here's to me."_

The group silenced themselves as they listened to Grantaire's soft mellow words.

 _"Drink with me to days gone by  
Can it be you fear to die?  
Will the world remember you  
When you fall?  
Could it be your death  
Means nothing at all?  
Is your life just one more lie?"_

Enjolras' brows furrowed at the meaning of Grantaire's thought evoking words. His own emotions and mind were in turmoil with each other, how could a man like him be so caught up with the fear of dying, all of a sudden? All Enjolras had left was this rebellion and his comrades that stood by his side, Esmeralda wasn't here to comfort his poor lonely soul, nor would she be here ever again.

 _"Why do I care if I will die?  
Now she goes across the sea."_

Valjean's eyes narrowed as the melodic voice carried its way through the air to his place on the balcony window.

 _"Esmeralda, you left nothing for me."_

His head jerked at his daughter's name, his feet were already moving; carrying his body to the source of the voice.

 _"Would you weep your love  
If I were to fall?  
Would you weep…  
Your tears  
For me?"_

Valjean stopped around the corner, only peaking around it to see the owner of the melodic voice, was this man Enjolras? His eyes widened as his eyes caught the sore sight of the golden-curled leader, his body emblazoned with revolutionary red as he lounged on wooden stool in the corner of the room. Valjean sighed irritably, of course Esmeralda would pick the _leader_ of the rebellion to fall in love with. The young man was a revolution in human flesh, his cold burning eyes betrayed his angelic features as he stared into the space in front of him. Apollo, Valjean had heard them call him, a fitting name to the god that held the company of man around him. However, Valjean felt fear sink into the pit of his stomach, for if this man was the leader it will be a much harder task to keep him alive.

The lad was so young, yet within that young mind was enough wisdom and knowledge that would make an elderly historian envious. Somehow, this young man had managed to capture Esmeralda's delicate heart, whether it be with his brilliant scheming mind or with his angelic looks, Valjean didn't care; all he cared about was that Esmeralda loved him.

Valjean stepped carefully into the room, the creaking of the floorboards under his weight alerted the young man, causing him to rise from his chair and to snap out of whatever deep thoughts were encased in the young mind of his.

"Monsieur, I believe I know you," Valjean started softly, "Your name is Enjolras, am I wrong?"

"Yes, indeed it is monsieur, Alexandre Enjolras is the name I bare." Enjolras' eyes widened every so slightly at the knowledge of this man knowing his name.

Valjean paused, carefully choosing his next words.

"You carry a flaming torch in your heart, monsieur." Enjolras' brows furrowed in confusion at this, what was the man going on about?

"The fire for the revolution has always burned bright within me, monsieur."

"Not that flame lad," Valjean clarified, his palms were sweaty as they clenched in fists at his side, "The torch for my daughter, Esmeralda."

Enjolras inhaled deeply, that's what it was, he realized. The man was Esmeralda's father, her chaperone that the Les Amis never really paid attention to when they were too focused on enjoying her time and company with them. Enjolras felt his legs move on their own, moving back a step to place more space between him and Esmeralda's father. Now wonder he didn't relate the two people together, the man in front of him had no resemblance to Esmeralda whatsoever. The man's skin was pale, wrinkled with time and carried the lines of exhaustion as if he had endured the pains of a lifetime; it contrasted deeply to Esmeralda's deeply tanned, youthful olive skin. There was no sign of any green in the father's iris', only the deep greyness of a storm was held in the man's coloured orbs; there was no sign of Esmeralda.

"My apologies for not recognising you monsieur." He had pointed a gun at him! _Everyone_ had pointed a gun at the man. "If you are here now, then where is Esmeralda? Is she not travelling to England this very moment?"

Enjolras couldn't help firing his questions at the man, he wanted closure. He wanted the sweet relief that Esmeralda was away from this fighting, from all this bloodshed and yet at the same time his heart wanted her here, beside him.

Valjean's eyes were sad and solemn as he glanced to the ground before replying.

"Well, I was hoping _you'd_ be able to let me know that."

* * *

"Mademoiselle!"

Esmeralda stirred slightly at the sound, before being shaken awake roughly by a pair of strong hands on her shoulders.

"Now is not the time to sleep Esmeralda, we must hurry!" William's voice entered her conscience, jerking her fully awake with his urgent tone.

He pulled her to her feet, not even giving her time for her legs to gain strength for stumbling out of the room, his rough hand clutched in hers. They both rushed down the stairways, Esmeralda still dazed and confused with sleep as William forced her to slip on a pair of shoes and roughly shoved her hair into a hat.

"William, what's going on? Why are we in such a rush?" She shrugged on her large coat,

The dull ache on her arm was a reminder of her gunshot wound, still healing slowly; it hung loosely at her side while William's firm grip held onto her right hand as he ushered her out of the back entrance of the building into a small alleyway.

The sun had not even risen over the horizon fully yet, the red sky above her was a deep vibrant red mixed with streaks of yellow. The louds shouts and screams seemed to echo into the dawn from the street where William had just dragged her from. The sound of pounding footsteps grew closer and suddenly Esmeralda was pressed firmly between the brick wall of the alley and William's long body, his hand clamped over her mouth. They both waited until the only sound they could hear was the shallow breathes they took, before moving away from each other.

Esmeralda's eyes stared at William accusingly, wanting answers.

"What on earth is happening?! Why are we here?" She whispered furiously.

Before he even replied, William seized her hand and dragged her further down the long alley.

Not accepting this as an answer, Esmeralda tried pulling her small hands free of Williams', but it was no use, his grip was like a viper curling around it's prey, not willing to let go at any costs.

"William, I swear-"

"Will you be quiet?" Finally turning back to her, his deep royal blue eyes stared into her soul. "The soldiers… they managed to get over our barricade earlier."

He kept his voice low as he spoke to her, still keeping his fast pace with her hand gripped in his as they both weaved through the tiny alleyways between the houses. A secret passageway out.

"They… They got over?" Esmeralda asked incredulously.

"Yes, they got over," repeated William with an irritated sigh, "If I had gotten to you any later both of us would be lying dead in the streets by now."

Esmeralda shuddered at the thought, but felt her eyes widen as a new realisation settled upon her inquisitive mind.

"What about the others?" she asked desperately, tugging William to a stop.

"Others? What others do you speak of?"

"The other barricades! Have they fallen as well?!" Her voice was raising with panic, the thought of her friends lying dead seemed to set her off.

William's head jerked in all directions, checking if anyone had seen them or heard them before placing his hand on Esmeralda's rosy lips in attempt to silence her.

"Will you quieten down? We'll be found at this rate," he whispered furiously before tugging her hand to urge her to walk on again. "All I know is that there's only one barricade left, the one in front of the café."

Esmeralda grabbed William's left arm with both hands, ignoring the spike of pain when she forcefully moved her arm.

"You must take me there; my friends are there!" she whispered urgently, the desperation clear in her eyes.

William's dashing blue eyes narrowed incredulously at her as she said this and took a daring step closer to her.

"Have you lost your mind? I'm trying to get us out of the barricades here, and here you are asking to go back!" She was practically running to her death, he realized. "By judging how long it took for those guards to destroy our barricade, their next attack will be in less than half an hour. If you go there now, Esmeralda, there will be no escape for you! People have barred their doors, no one has come to our call, everyone has turned their backs on us. Those men are trapped in there, because once you go through there's no coming back."

"Then how were _we_ supposed to leave?!" she snapped back furiously.

"The only way I know," he lowered his voice as much as he can, "The sewers."

The sewers?

She had completely forgotten the sewers existed, how they provided an underground passageway around the whole city of Paris.

It was their only hope.

"I have to find them and tell them of this!" Esmeralda wrestled her hand from William's grip with surprising strength causing his fingers to slip from her ever so slightly.

"I didn't save your life back there just so you could throw it away again," his eyes were a blue storm of anger as he glared into Esmeralda's eyes.

"I never asked you to save my life!" she whispered back angrily.

She was losing precious time, time that would help her meet everyone again, to tell them of the escape route, to tell them she loved them one last time before death claimed them all. She couldn't afford losing that chance by spending too much time arguing in an alley with a man she barely knew. Although she had only known William for a short amount of time, she had come to understand some baffling aspects of his character. He used his sarcasm and anger to hide the fact that he truly cares for her well-being, it reminded her a lot like someone she knew.

"I can't leave with you William," she whispered softly. "There are men, who I care for, left at the barricade. I have to be with them."

She took his hand in both of hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. William's piercing gaze softened ever so slightly, as he gazed at her one final time.

"Even if it mean's you'll die with them?" He whispered.

She smiled sadly, her eyes crinkling.

"Better to die with the people you love than to die on your own."

William's hands fell from Esmeralda's, his grip completely gone from her hands as he stepped away from her. He had no idea why on earth he wanted Esmeralda to live so badly, maybe it was because of his natural instincts as a doctor to want his patients to survive. However, he knew in a deep part of his brain there was no way of convincing her out of this. He saw the unwavering fire that burned in her eyes, a flame that he knew if he'd touch it he'd only get burned. He watched her go, picking herself up into a jog before disappearing around the corner, towards the last barricade standing. He watched her throw her life away, just to see some men one last time.

What an idiot, he thought.

But then again,

What did he know?

* * *

 **AN: OKAY I know I ended on another sort of cliff hanger but honestly I had to this time otherwise the chapter would've been way too long. Favourite, Follow and Review if you've enjoyed it so far!**


End file.
